Who Your Friends Are
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Dean Winchester is about to find out that the enemy of your enemy is not necessarily your friend. It's a lesson that may cost him the only family he has left.
1. Chapter 1

Who Your Friends Are

By: Ridley James

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural is mine. All the pretty boys belong to Kripke and CW.

Beta: Tidia

A/N: This story is set after Born Under a Bad Sign, so there may be some spoilers up to that point, but nothing major. It follows my stories of Synergy and The Pin and the Fork. It's what Tidia and I like to call a 'Connector' story- meaning that thrown in the glutonous hurt/comfort there are some important things going on. bg.

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"**O Devine art of subtlety and secrecy. Through you we learn to be invisible , through you inaudible and hence we can hold the enemy's fate in our hands."**

**-Sun Tzu**

Cosby, Tennessee

"That's mine." Caleb snatched the burger Sam was about to eat. "I had ketchup only."

He tossed him the other burger. "This one has rabbit food on it."

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes and took the other wrapped sandwich. "It's called lettuce. And what is with you and the ketchup fixation?"

Reaves took a huge bite of the burger and frowned. "It's a preference." They had been sitting in the car for over an hour and Caleb was more bored than hungry. "Not a fixation."

"The hell it's not." Sam snorted, going back to his work on the computer. "You eat it on everything."

"Do I make fun of your weird need to arrange everything on your plate by food groups, OCD?"

"At least I have more than one food group," Sam mumbled, taking another bite of his own meal.

Caleb shot him a look out of the corner of his eye and leaned back in the driver's seat of the Impala. He was really tired of the tight quarters and being cooped up with Mr. Nitpicky. "Why did we agree to let Dean do the leg work on this one?"

"Because you can't shoot pool with a broken arm." Sam didn't look up from the screen this time. "And you're not suppose to drink any alcohol with your meds."

"I can go in a bar without drinking or hustling." Caleb huffed, finishing off the last of his burger and wadding up the paper, which he tossed in the backseat. He never actually needed to hustle. John had taught him the art right along with Dean. Caleb liked the challenge, and learning had been a challenge. It had come naturally for Dean. Caleb actually studied pool players. He wanted to impress John and win a game against the man, which never happened.

The younger hunter raised a brow. "We don't have time for you to hook up with a woman either."

"So that's why I'm banished to little brother sitting." The older hunter rolled his eyes. "That sucks. All these years of hunting and I'm still a glorified nanny."

Sam flashed him a lopsided grin. "Actually, _I'm _big brother sitting. Dean paid me forty dollars to keep you occupied and out of trouble." It was a nice change of pace not to be the only one on the receiving end of Dean Winchester's pit bull routine. And the look on Caleb's face more than made up for the payment his brother was bound to renege.

"What the fuck?" Reaves groused. "I'm the one in charge here. Mac sent me to watch your backs. Not the other way around."

Winchester shrugged. "Whatever you want to think, man."

"Are you saying Mac had an ulterior motive for sending me on this road trip from hell? That he wanted you two to keep an eye on me?"

Sam kept typing. "Of course not."

Caleb let his head fall back on the seat. "Well, damn. You could have at least sprung for a better meal since Deuce was being liberal with the daycare money."

"I asked for fifty." Sam shook his head. "You're lucky I fed you at all."

"Great." Reaves glanced back to the bar across the street. The Fort Marx was apparently known country-wide and booming with customers. He would have given his good hand to be inside where Dean was working his magic to turn up more information on their current hunt. "I'll remember that the next time I pull a coffee run. No more venti caramel lattes. From now on, it's gas station brew with powdered cream for you."

Sam sighed, staring at the back of the other man's head. He had easily picked up on the spike of psychic energy. "You're not supposed to use your abilities either. Dean will kick your ass if your nose starts bleeding again and you get blood on the seats."

Caleb turned to glare at him. "You're really starting to push your luck, Runt."

"And don't you think I've outgrown that nickname?" Winchester turned, resting against the passenger side door. "Seriously. I'm taller than both you and Dean. And _I_ could kick your ass right now if I wanted to."

"Did you start wearing heels, Samantha?" Reaves laughed. "Because last time I checked, you barely had half an inch on me. And you better have slipped some of those pain killers into my burger if you really think you have half a chance of taking me down-one-armed or not."

Sam grinned. "Whatever you want to think, man, but your math is off. I'm 6'5" and your 6'3", that's two inches. No wonder you had to stick with architecture instead of focusing on engineering." He went back to look through the research he had downloaded earlier.

"That's really starting to get on my nerves, kid." Caleb growled, referring to Sam's sudden laid back persona. "It's almost as annoying as when you went through that stage where you mocked everything we did and said. I know Mac wanted you to start the whole meditation thing for your abilities, but give it a rest." Sam liked to reflect that Caleb and Dean reverted in years when they were together, but Reaves found it pretty damn ironic that the twenty-three-year old liked to act like his former adolescent self.

"I'm just agreeing with you."

"In an obnoxious 'know it all Sam' way that's more about being patronizing than accommodating."

"Would you rather I argue with you?"

"How about you just not say anything at all?"

"Sure."

"You're doing that on purpose."

"Doing what?" Sam asked, innocently. "I'm just doing what you asked."

Reaves's frown grew and he used his middle finger to gesture first to the younger hunter and then to the lap top. "And that would be coming up with all the information you can on elementals."

Sam frowned, thoughtfully. "I've actually gotten some interesting stuff."

"Then do tell, because if things get any 'less' interesting in here there's a good chance I'll be slipping back into that coma. Then Dean will kick _your_ ass for falling down on the job."

"Well, we already knew about the four types and that they each seem to have a powerful leader called a King, or so the legend goes."

"Right." Caleb crossed his arms over his chest, closing his eyes. "Ghob is king of the gnomes which are earth elementals, then there is Nischsa king of the undines or the water keepers. Then let's not forget the most powerful and my personal favorite Djinn, the king of the salamanders."

"Fire keepers." Sam glanced at the other psychic. "That's appropriate for us."

Reaves cracked one eye open. "Yeah. I guess it is."

Sam took a deep breath and pushed the negative thoughts out of his mind. "So, what we're dealing with in the latest death would appear to be Paralda or an underling sylph, seeing as how the guy supposedly died in a freak storm and they control the air."

"Death by unnatural tornado." Reaves shook his head. "Not the way I want to go."

"Every bone in his body was crushed. Like he was lifted into the air and then slung back towards the ground." Sam flipped through some of Dean's handwritten notes he had gotten from the county medical examiner.

"Or he jumped out of a plane passing over head and left his most important piece of luggage behind." Reaves frowned. "But out of all the elementals, sylphs are supposed to be enamored by humans."

"Elementals also operate on a psychic level. We should be able to sense them." Sam grimaced at some of the black and white photos his brother had snatched from the coroner. "Massive blunt trauma is not pretty."

Caleb shifted in the seat, trying to find a position that didn't put pressure on his ribs or side. "We can't look over the fact that elementals can blend with each other." The older psychic spared another glance towards the bar in question. "Especially since the other guy died of a freak rock slide. That could have been gnomes work. Then there is the whole thing that elementals can be summoned and controlled by other higher beings."

"Like the shadow demons that Meg liked to keep as pets."

Caleb sighed. "Yeah. That's exactly what I was thinking, too. In fact, Devas are a type of elemental."

Sam exhaled loudly. "This could have ritual magic written all over it."

"And who better than demons to have their hands all over the dark side of the art."

Sam closed the computer. "We could call Joshua. He might have an idea about what to look for."

"It's a thought, but let's wait and see what Deuce turns up from the locals."

"There's a good chance someone will know the two victims. This isn't exactly a bustling metropolis, even though the tourist industry seems to be up tonight."

Reaves nodded. "And despite his pissy attitude these days, your brother can turn on the charm when needed."

Sam stared at the other psychic for a moment, knowing he wasn't the only one having a hard time adjusting to Dean's new demeanor. "He's just worried-stressed about what's coming."

Caleb continued to watch the door of the bar for a moment before flashing Sam a half-assed grin. "Maybe you should teach him some of that yoga you've been doing, _Runt_."

"It's Tai Chi and you use it too. I read it in your journal."

Reaves laughed. "But I look cool when I do it. You look like Mr. Miagi after his morning prune juice smoothie."

"Funny."

"I thought so."

Sam didn't get a chance for a rebuttal as Dean's exit from the bar drew both the hunters' attention. "Thank God." Caleb breathed. "Maybe we can either get a hotel room or get the hell out of this place."

Dean opened the driver's side door of the car and motioned Reaves out of his seat. "Did you boys miss me?"

"You can pay me the forty bucks, Deuce. Mrs. Doubtfire Sammy is not." Caleb informed him as he carefully extricated himself from the car, opening the back door to move into the backseat. "I nearly died of boredom."

"Did you find out anything?" Sam got straight to the point, ignoring the accusing look his brother shot him.

Dean slid behind the wheel, like a cowboy mounting up. "Oh yeah." He flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror. "Damien, you should have seen the redhead…"

"Dean!" Sam cut the older Winchester off. "I was talking about the two victims."

Dean smirked at his brother and continued, "The _redhead_ who manages the chalet rental where the second victim was staying."

"Did she notice anything unusual about the guy?"

"You mean besides finding him in a pulverized mess on the front lawn?"

Caleb sighed. "Yes, besides that, Inspector Obvious."

"You should appreciate this, Sammy. Our bug on the windshield boy was no one other than Francis Sedwick."

"Who?" Caleb asked.

The younger Winchester wracked his brain for a reason as to why the guy should be familiar.

Dean grinned. "Frankie boy is a hotshot lawyer."

"And?"

"He just happens to be a liaison for the same company that victim number one also worked for."

"Did we establish a place of employment for the first guy?"

"No, but Maggie knew where he worked." Dean drew the woman's name out in an imitated Southern twang. "Seems the poor guy tried to impress her the week before by bragging about his prowess as an engineer."

"He should have gone the architecture way. Chicks dig the artist thing."

"Would you focus?" Sam shook his head at Reaves and his brother.

Caleb looked at him. "If you start that breathing thing again, I swear to God, Sammy…"

"You two aren't letting me finish my story."

"Could it wait until we get a hotel room, man. I'm sick of this car."

"Well, that's part of the story. Maggie is letting us stay at one of her places."

"A nice, secluded mountain chalet." Reaves sighed. "Now you're talking, Deuce. I knew I taught you well."

"It's not really secluded and it's not exactly a chalet."

"Then where the hell is it?" Caleb asked.

Sam frowned. "And more importantly, what is it?"

Dean started the car. "It's at Camper's Paradise."

"Do not say it, man. I'm not staying in a tent. I could barely walk after sleeping in the Impala last night."

The oldest Winchester shot his friend an annoyed look through the rearview mirror. "It's not a tent, Reaves. It's an RV."

"Lovely. I'm sure it's a piece of heaven. No offense to your new lady friend, I think I'll just stay at that nice little place we saw back on the main road."

"The Bear Cub." Sam stated with a nod of solidarity. "The one with the big carved bears in front. I'm with you."

"No Vacancy," Dean announced, as he pulled onto the road. "Just like every other joint from here to Arkansas."

Caleb leaned forward, resting his elbows on the front seat. "How the hell do you know that?"

"Because Maggie told me, and if you two idiots were half the NASCAR fan she is, you'd be in the know, too."

"Come again."

"Racing. The sport of the South." Sam took it upon himself to explain.

"I know what NASCAR is, Sam. What I want to know is what it has to do with why we won't be sleeping in a hotel tonight?"

"Bristol Race." Dean shrugged. "Apparently it's bigger than the Super Bowl."

Sam glanced to Reaves. "That explains all the tourists in the off season."

"An RV?" Caleb complained. "Really?"

"Yeah, but it has satellite." Dean offered. "And, believe it or not, free Wifi."

Reaves relaxed back in the seat. "Yeah, but does it have a place for Sammy to do yoga?"

"It's not yoga!"

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	2. Chapter 2

Who Your Friends Are

By: Ridley

Beta: Tidia

a/n: Sorry the chapters are shorter than usual, but this fic should be finished up quickly, and then it's back to Phoenix. Thanks so much for all the reviews. I'm having some fun with this story, and even thought it's light in the action now, I promise it is building up to that and this like the other "Connector" stories have little tidbits that will be important in upcoming larger stories. At least, it's suppose to work that way. Enjoy.

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_**To come to know your enemy, first you must become his friend, and once you become his friend, all his defences come down. **_

**_Then you can choose the most fitting method for his demise.-Tokugawa leyasu  
_**

"It's everything I imagined it would be." Reaves shook his head. "Sort of Road Rules meets Beverly Hillbillies." He shot the oldest Winchester a smirk. "Tell me Granny is not in there cooking up some possum fat back or something, Deuce?"

Dean grabbed their bags from the trunk of the car. "You're welcome to sleep in the Impala again."

"And miss my chance to stay in tin-can paradise? Never."

Sam studied the dingy white RV with the bright red awning. "Are you sure this is the only thing she had available?"

"Yes, Sam. I'm sure." Dean motioned to the other trailers surrounding them. "This is one of her most popular sites. We were lucky that the family staying here got sun poisoning at time trials yesterday."

"Yeah. We should have picked up some lottery tickets back at the Grab'it and Go with the streak we're having." Reaves gestured to a large plastic oval with colorful fish painted on it. "Check it out. This place even has a pool."

Dean elbowed him as he passed. "We've stayed in worse."

Sam sighed. "We've lived in worse. Still doesn't mean I have to like it."

Caleb looked at the dilapidated front deck with the numerous clanging wind chimes. "This is why I have the Hilton Rewards card. You know that, right?"

Dean frowned at the psychic. "Stop your bitching. I didn't see you swinging us a place with your charm and American Express card back at the Bear Cub."

"Obviously we're too far out of civilization for the Ames name to be of any use." Reaves climbed the rickety wooden steps with care. "And the clerk was missing a fucking X chromosome along with some of his teeth, so my amazing looks weren't a damn bit of good either."

"Yeah because nothing says loving like the 'I've been hit by a truck' look you're sporting."

"Right back at you, Deuce."

Sam rolled his stiff shoulders and picked up one of the duffels. "If you two are done marking your territories…could we just go inside and get some sleep?"

Caleb's mouth twitched. "We disrupting your aura of peace,Swami Sammy?"

"Something like that." Sam brushed past Reaves and pushed the door open.

If he thought the place looked shady on the outside, getting a good view of the interior had him considering Caleb's suggestion they check out the idea of house squatting.

"Holy shit."

Reaves stunned voice beside him broke the spell long enough for Sam to blink. The bright colors had temporarily mesmerized him. "Yeah."

Dean dropped the rest of their bags on the bright purple carpet. "Either some really obsessed country music fan decorated this place or our last tenant was a serial killer with a thing for buxom blonds."

Pictures of Dolly Parton graced almost every wall surface. Butterfly curtains as well as matching bed spreads and throw pillows in the shape of the winged insects graced all the furniture.

"Dollywood."

"Excuse me?" Dean looked at his brother.

"It's a theme park here. Huge. Like Disneyworld but without the mouse."

Caleb whistled and studied an up close body shot of the star. "But with two very special Space Mountains." He grinned. "I always liked fun rides."

"I guess this is what Maggie meant when she said it was well endowed with amenities."

Sam didn't find the humor in the situation. The place creeped him out. Dolly and the brightly colored butterflies were conjuring up his phobia of clowns. "I don't know if I can sleep in here with all these eyes."

Dean and Caleb looked at the other hunter. "Eyes?" Dean grinned. "What eyes?"

Sam groaned, dropped his bags and headed for the small room he assumed was the bathroom. "I call first shower."

Both men ignored him, still taking in the ample cleavage. He easily heard his brother's voice through the thin metal door. "You think they're real?" Sam sighed. It was going to be a very long night.

At least the shower worked and Sam was grateful the bathroom was adorned with bears, instead of Dolly. Apparently, someone realized having the smiling star for an audience might not be welcomed although his brother and Caleb would have probably enjoyed it. He came out to find Dean rummaging through their bags and Caleb stretched out on the bottom bunk bed with Sam's laptop resting on his legs.

"You find anything out about that company?"

"Oh yeah." Caleb nodded. "It's all starting to make sense."

Sam moved past his brother to claim a seat on the edge of the bed. "What?"

"Hancock Paper and Printing just happens to own their own logging company. Seems they don't mind doing the dirty work of getting raw materials themselves instead of contracting out to larger, more well-known sources."

The youngest Winchester frowned thoughtfully. "But aren't we in a middle of a national park? It should be protected."

"_Should_ being the key phrase, Sammy. Seems some kind of legislation passed allowing so much of the forest to be clear cut." Dean offered as he continued to tear through their things. "Maggie wasn't too happy about it. She said a lot of the tree huggers are miffed."

"They should be, Dean. Removal of trees can alter species and cause nutrient depletion. It can also cause habitat loss, increase water temperatures, and cause soil erosion."

"Whatever, Mother Earth."

Sam looked at Caleb as if he should say something. Reaves shrugged. "I'm with you and Al Gore, kid, but not all logging companies are the devil. Tri-Corp worked with some who did a lot to help the environment. You can't stop progress."

"But not this particular company?"

Reaves met Sam's gaze. "Smaller operations have to cut corners to compete, underbid the competition. It's dirty, but a lot of rich men have made their first million doing much worse."

"Try remembering that when everyone finds out that money can't be eaten." Sam raked his hands through his still damp hair. "So two people with ties to this company have died in bizarre ways. In ways that suggest that elementals are possibly to blame, especially now there is the connection to the land being damaged. Have you ever heard of anything like this happening before?"

Caleb hit a few more keys on the computer, going back to some of Sam's original notes. "Not exactly. But we've pretty much ruled out a haunting, considering the locations don't fit, and the ways of death are different, too. No burial grounds nearby, and the whole curse thing didn't pan out." Reaves moved his gaze to Dean. "Deuce, while you're ransacking our stuff see if you can throw John's journal this way. If I remember right, he ran into a situation like this a few years back when we were working those jobs in Colorado."

"What are you looking for?" Sam asked as his brother tossed Caleb the leather book, and went back to his search.

"Found them." Dean help up a medicine bottle, giving it a little rattle.

"Hot pink wall paper giving you a headache?" Caleb caught the book, and began flipping through the pages.

"No." Dean moved to the sink, filling a glass of water. "These are yours."

Reaves glanced up, raising a brow. "You're joking. Right?"

"Mac said you needed to finish them all."

The psychic frowned. "Yeah, well, Mac's not here."

"But I am."

Caleb shook his head. "And you're a doctor now?"

"No. But I don't have to be a MD to see you're not exactly on the road to good health."

Reaves sighed. "Look, Deuce, cut the mother-hen routine. It's getting old."

"So is your 'I'm one hundred percent' act, Champ. Face it. You're not up to covering anyone's back."

Sam felt the spike of tension radiate in the cramped space. Reaves handed him the laptop, dropping the journal on the bed as he stood up. "You think you can bench me?"

Dean didn't back down. "I'm just calling it like I see it."

"Only one man I know that could pull that and last time I checked Johnny was long gone."

Sam tried to focus on the garish grape-colored carpet covering the floor of the RV. He preferred not to get drawn into the rare confrontation between the two older hunters, but Caleb's words had him glancing at his brother. He watched Dean tense. A few months ago those were fighting words.. Instead he roughly tossed the bottle of pills at Caleb.

"Take the damn medicine and go to bed, Damien."

Reaves caught the pills, shoved them in his pocket and started for the door of the RV. "Fuck you, Deuce." It was time to put some space between them before he did something he would regret.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Dean demanded, stopping short of reaching out and grabbing the other man. "We're in the middle of a job."

"Don't worry." Caleb stopped at the door and smirked. "I'll make sure not to drink or hustle, or pick up any women while I'm out."

"Stubborn sonofabitch!" Dean yelled at the closed door once Reaves had gone. He turned a fierce gaze on his brother. "What?"

Sam raised a hand in surrender. "Nothing."

"Don't give me that," Dean snarled. "I know you're over there analyzing every little detail. I can see the hamster wheels turning in that cage of yours."

"I was just going to say that maybe you should remember how you like it when I tell you what to do."

"Come again?"

"You know…" Sam motioned between them. "I suggest something completely reasonable to keep you safe or to help you out and you inevitably take it as a personal assault against your manhood. An attack on the ability to take care of yourself and me and then you end up getting all defensive. Then you're pissed as hell at me for just trying to do what was best for you out of concern." Winchester shrugged. "You usually end up in trouble afterwards, like tied up about to be scarecrow food or being used as a punching bag for a psychotic hunter."

Dean exhaled heavily, looking longingly at the door. "You think I should go after him?"

Sam turned his attention to the laptop. "Whatever you think, man." They were big boys. They could figure it out themselves. And besides, he knew for a fact all the weapons were still packed.

"This new Zen attitude of yours is really beginning to be a bitch, Yogi Sam."

Sam continued to type. "Mac said I needed to think positively."

Dean grabbed his jacket and Caleb's from the chair and started for the door. "Yeah, well, Mackland's not here."

He didn't give his brother a chance to reply as he stepped outside into the cool spring air, surprised when he caught sight of Caleb leaned against the passenger door of the Impala, speaking into his cell phone.

The older hunter glanced up at his approach but his face gave away nothing about who he was talking to, or how he felt about Dean following him.

"Look, we'll call you back if it pans out." With that Reaves shut his phone and raked his gaze over Winchester. "Sawyer said we should look for a special bush."

Dean's brow shot up and he shoved the other man's jacket towards him. "That sounds kinky."

The psychic rolled his eyes, but slid into his leather coat. "It's some kind of flowering plant that air elementals are drawn to. He says it would be in the highest spot of the area."

"So, we need to plan a picnic into the forest tomorrow."

"We?" Reaves crossed his arms over his chest. "Does that mean I get to go to Grandma's house, too, Red?"

"Look, man. I'm just trying to …it's just…you're still hurt. I'm watching out for you. That's all." There had been so many 'what ifs' lately. Dean wasn't going to take any chances he didn't have to.

"I get that, kid, and I appreciate it. Really." Reaves snorted. He was trying to see Dean's point of view. They had been through a couple of close calls over the last few weeks-his run in with the hunters, subsequent coma, Sam's disappearance and possession. Still, he couldn't let things continue. "But damn it, Deuce. I keep expecting you to mash up my fucking food for me so I don't choke to death on it. I'm not a hundred percent, but I'm not an idiot either. Just ease up."

"I didn't say you were." Dean inclined his head. "Although I got to say…"

"I'm not stepping down from being The Knight!" Caleb growled in frustration. The kid was driving him crazy. He had been badgering him about declining the position since returning his ring. It was ironic. It was that very act that sealed Reaves decision. His job as The Knight was what he was truly meant to do.

"I made a promise to your dad, to Jim. I wouldn't take it back, even if I could." They had been dancing around the issue of Reaves being the next Knight and of Sam being the Scholar. If Dean couldn't accept their positions how the hell was he going to handle his proposed role.

"You were a kid."

"I wasn't a kid, Dean. Hell, I stopped being a kid when my parents died. The Brotherhood saved me."

"This isn't exactly a fairytale, Dartanyan." Dean understood all too well how Caleb felt about the other hunters-how he had idolized them when he was younger. How he strove to emulate them even now. Dean felt the same way. But now the cost was too high.

"Yeah. Well, it's all I have."

"You _had _Tri-Corp."

So they were back to that conversation. "Dean…"

"I find it hard to believe that Jim wanted this for you." The younger hunter glanced back to the RV, lowering his voice. "That he wanted it for Sam." Dean wasn't sure which one of his brother's 'destinies' had him more worried.

"Jim knew he had to prepare the next generation. He only did what he thought was right." Caleb sighed. "It's not a curse, Deuce. It's a legacy."

"When it puts you on a hit list, I consider it a bad thing."

"The nature of our work puts us on lots of shit lists in case you've forgotten, Dillinger."

"I haven't forgotten." Dean held the other man's gaze. "I remember everything. Maybe it's our work that is the problem."

Reaves rolled his eyes at the implication. There had been some bad things he wished they both could forget, but he wasn't buying Dean's new job philosophy. At least the kid had given up the idea of quitting hunting all together. Now he just wanted to shirk the whole Brotherhood tie. But they were born to be hunters-destined to guide the next generation of The Brotherhood. According to Jim, it was their birthright. "Yeah, your memory is like a steel trap. Like Dumbo." Caleb tried for a smile. "Even have the whole scared of mice thing going on for you, too."

Dean scowled. "I'm not afraid of mice."

"That's good, because field mice are notorious in this area and as you so kindly pointed out., I'm not up to watching your back. It's likely a few will get past me."

"I didn't mean it that way. I trust you to watch my six. More importantly, I trust you to watch Sammy's. There's no way in hell I'd go for this whole Scholar thing if you weren't playing Lancelot."

"Because that is the way it is _supposed_ to be. I watch over you and Sam. You watch out for Sam." He wanted Dean to realize that there was no reversing the hierarchy.

Dean held Caleb's gaze, knowing what the other man was saying. He also knew where his father had fallen in Caleb's little pecking order of protection. John watched out for Reaves, but now that spot was empty. But mentioning it would have been a moot point, and painful for both of them. " So, who's Sam supposed to watch over?"

Reaves snorted. "No one. He's supposed to annoy us, like what he's doing with this Zen shit."

Dean laughed. "So are you still pissed at me?"

"That depends…" Reaves jutted his chin towards the road they had come in on. "You willing to bend the whole no alcohol rule Mackland has guru Sammy enforcing and go grab us some beer at that hole in the wall we passed coming in."

"That's blackmail."

"I know it's shitty, but if I don't get something to take the edge off _besides_ these freakin' pills I might smother Sam in his sleep."

"If he downloads anymore chanting music I might beat you to it."

"Buy me a beer and we'll forget the whole thing where you tried to order me around ."

"Mackland told me I could order you around. He called it The Scholar Mandate."

Caleb pushed off the car. "The Scholar Mandate works on me about as well as The Hunter's Handbook used to work on you."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah well, good thing we still have Sammy to use them on."

Reaves grinned. "What will we do when the little tyke grows up?"

"Never happen. Sam is like Peter Pan."

Caleb laughed, opening the passenger's side door of the Impala. "You realize that makes you Tinker Bell. Right?"

Dean rolled his eyes, pulling the car keys from his pocket. He'd call his brother from the store and see if he wanted anything. "Shut up."

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

By: Ridley

Beta: Tidia

a/n: Short, but at least it is something before my break.

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"**_If an enemy has alliances, the problem is grave and the enemy's position is strong._****_"_****_-Sun Tzu_**

Dean was having the nicest dream about mountains when the Deliverance dueling banjos ring tone Sam had downloaded on his phone interrupted his jaunt with nature. He had scored the kitchen table that converted into a bed by beating his little brother in a two out of three match of rock, paper, scissors, forcing Sam to the top bunk. So Dean only needed to reach over his head to grab his cell from the counter top. "Yeah?"

A soft-spoken southern drawl had him alert. He pushed himself to a seated position, rubbing at his eyes. "This is Dean."

It was Maggie from the bar last night. Dean had given her his phone number for various reasons, one being case-related. "You're kidding me?"

Dean had presented himself as a reporter from the Knoxville Times, there to do a story on the big race and the effect on tourism, but more interested in the recent deaths. He had asked the young woman to call if anymore unusual occurrences popped up on the radar or if she got lonely.

Unless the woman considered rooster-crowing, crack of the dawn phone calls as foreplay, he was pretty sure the call was concerning the gig. Which meant Sam and Caleb should also have to be awake for it. He picked up one of the butterfly shaped pillows and launched it at Reaves who was on the bottom bunk. "When did it happen?"

"Damn it, Deuce," Caleb growled, rolling over and attempting to ignore the next pillow that caught him in the back of the head. "Leave me the fuck alone."

"His body was impaled on the tree limbs?" Dean asked the question louder than necessary.

"Whose body?" Sam's sleepy voice wafted down from the top bunk, and Dean grinned in satisfaction.

"Do you know who this guy was?" He asked and waited for Maggie to continue.

Whoever said southerners spoke slowly had apparently not met the fiery red-head. Her excited state and exaggerated pronunciation caused her words to blur together, and Dean had to focus to understand her story. "So, another employee of the paper company. Yeah. That's a real coincidence."

"Coincidence?" Caleb rolled onto his back, resigned to his fate to be up before the sun. "I'm guessing Maggie's not a Mensa candidate?"

The butterfly nightlight by the bed allowed Caleb to see Dean give him the bird. "You know I'll mention you in the byline, sweetheart. Where'd you say this all took place?"

Sam leaned over his bunk, looking at Reaves. "Elementals again?"

Caleb rubbed a hand over his face. "Sounds like. Damn it."

"Sure thing. You bet." Dean finally shut the phone and tossed it back on the counter.

"Let me guess? Another freak storm that came out of nowhere? Just the like the first death." Caleb pushed himself up on one elbow.

"How else do you explain Micah Hill, foreman for HPP Logging, sprouting several new limbs, none of them the human kind?"

Sam sat up, letting his long legs dangle over the side of the bunk. "Sounds like we're definitely working with a pissed off sylph or Paralda."

"Let's hope it's a single sylph, considering how Johnny's notes painted the elemental he worked with." After Dean and Caleb had returned with pizza and beer, they had spent the better part of the evening piecing John's notes together with what they knew about the current case. "I don't want to go up against more than one of the bastards."

Dean looked at him. "Dad had the banishing spell. Right?"

"Yeah." Sam jumped down, shaking the entire RV when he landed. "It's pretty basic and it makes sense that if you can summon an elemental, then you can banish one." He explained around a yawn.

"Banish it to where exactly?"

Sam shrugged. "I think it disperses the energy more than sends it anywhere like when you're dealing with a demon."

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he hadn't had that third drink. "You boys are missing the important part."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"John was dealing with a water elemental."

"Yeah?"

Reaves finally levered himself to a sitting position, moving out from under the bunk so he could stretch. "An elemental that was confined to the water source it was working from."

"He had a way to contain it." Sam nodded as he caught onto what Caleb was pointing out. "An air elemental could provide a problem. You can't exactly rope the wind."

"What kind did Sawyer deal with? You said he and the rest of Rat Pack worked a job with one."

Caleb's mouth twitched at Dean's nickname for Ian and Fisher. "He didn't have time to get into it. We'll call him back on the way to the latest scene of the crime. No reason he shouldn't be up and about on this beautiful Sunday morning."

Dean snorted. "Probably getting ready for church. You know how respectable he is."

"Champagne brunch is more like it." Reaves shook his head. "Either way, he still owes us for that whole fiasco at Christmas."

"Speaking of that, should we really rely on good old Josh's intel?"

"He's the best source we have." Sam stated to his brother. Joshua might have been a jerk on most occasions but he had saved both Dean and Caleb's lives in a roundabout way. Sam couldn't just brush that off. "He's never let us down."

"No, he's only led us blindly into bad situations." Dean insisted. "I'm just saying…"

"That you're paranoid?" Caleb interrupted, a hint of teasing in his tone.

"It's only being paranoid if it's not true."

Sam yawned again. "Well, until you woo an elemental expert in one of the local bars, we're stuck with Josh."

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The police had wrapped up their initial investigation into the tragic death of Micah Hill, but the area around the worksite had been contained. It was a Sunday, so the small temporary office consisting of a single wide trailer was empty. A wooden shingle with HPP Logging painted across it hung over the door with the name of the deceased in small black letters beneath it.

"Did Maggie's friend at the police station explain how a tornado touched down in this area and left this tin box untouched?" Caleb studied the structure and then let his gaze go to the trees in the distance. "I could probably huff and puff and blow this thing over."

Dean shook his head. "Darcy is in dispatch, but she claims tornadoes can land on a dime and then bounce right back up in the sky. Said they've been known to pluck a single cow from a grazing heard without so much as disturbing the other heifers."

Sam gave his brother an incredulous look. "Did she hear an investigator say that?"

"No. But Maggie swears that Darcy has watched Twister over fifty times." Dean shot his brother a grin. "Huge Bill Paxton fan."

Caleb moved away from the building, heading for the trees. "I'm guessing that's our murder weapon." He jutted his chin towards a huge pine. "Or else someone left their really poor taste in Christmas decorations up."

Dean nodded, pointing out a naked area of the tree. Several limbs and branches had been sawed away and it was decorated with bright yellow police tape. "Probably had to cut the poor bastard down from what Maggie said."

"Check this out." Sam motioned to a plant off to the side of the tree his brother and Caleb were studying. "Isn't this the plant you were looking at on the internet last night?"

Reaves bent over the specimen in question. He had researched the special bush Joshua had given him the name of, finding more information than he had been expecting. The plant had thick, shiny ever-green leaves and purple blossoms. "Yeah it is. Catawba."

Sam knelt down, his brow furrowing. "But that's strange. I read over your notes and I thought you said that this plant only grows in elevations of at least 3500 feet." He glanced at Dean. "Which would qualify Josh's 'high' criteria."

"I did, and we're not at that elevation," Caleb looked around for other signs of the plant.

"It's also unusual for there just to be one." Sam fingered one of the purple petals. "And this isn't late June either, which is the only time Catawba blooms."

"We get it, Mr. Green Jeans." Dean frowned at his brother's geeky enthusiasm. "How much you want to bet we find more of this at the scene of the other murders?"

Reaves stood, wiping his hands on his worn jeans. "We're not too far from the ridge where that rock slide took place." He glanced at his watch. "We could make it up there and back before lunch. Maybe Josh will answer his damn phone by then."

They were sweating from the hike and the unusually warm spring temperatures by the time they reached the point where the second accident had taken place. It was an area of narrow trail leading to a bluff over-looking the scenic valley below. Despite being far from the peak of the mountain, the area probably came close to meeting the 3500 feet mark.

Caleb and Sam looked up at the rocky slope above them as Dean scoured the ground around them. "I'm not seeing any of our killer plants, but the police report said the guy had been to the overlook and was hiking back down."

"Can't be much further." Sam suggested. "The elemental could have followed him from there."

They had only gone another fourth of a mile when the trail opened up to a field with scattered trees and shrubs. Amongst the other greenery was a peppering of dark green plants with vivid purple blossoms.

"Bingo." Reaves moved towards an outcropping of trees where several of the Catawba bushes were clustered together. "Looks like we are definitely dealing with sylph, or some freaky plant phenomena that Al Gore would just love to write about in his next book."

"So we've nailed down a baddy." Dean bent down to get a closer look at the plants. "What's our next move?"

Caleb shook his head. "Uh…I really think we need to learn more about…"

Dean glanced up just as Reaves winced. "Caleb?" The younger hunter stood, watching his friend. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Reaves grimaced again. "You hear that?"

"Hear what?" Dean asked as a slight breeze brushed across his skin, sending a chill racing down his spine.

Reaves frowned, tilting his head. "That damn whistling noise."

"I don't…" Dean's words trailed off as he caught sight of his brother. Sam was walking away from them, moving towards the ledge in the distance. "Sam?"

Caleb turned, his gaze following the younger hunter's line of sight. "What's he doing?"

"Sam!" Dean yelled, and the soft breeze grew stronger, quickly picking up intensity.

"Shit." Caleb growled, one hand still held to his head. The whistling was now a low keening, not unlike the sensation of being read by another psychic. "The damn elemental is here."

"What?" Dean raised his shotgun. "Now?"

Reaves jutted his head towards the youngest Winchester, as he turned to go after the boy. "Damn thing's messing with Sammy."

"What?" Dean started after him.

"I can't reach him," Caleb growled. "The bastard is blocking me."

"Do something."

Reaves gave him an exasperated look. He was focusing on the odd presence he could sense around them, but was having no luck in drawing its attention. "I'm trying."

Dean, never one to sit on the sidelines, especially when his brother was knee-deep in the game, started towards Sam. He had taken a single step when a strong gust of wind slammed into him with all the force of a charging linebacker, propelling him back towards the trees where he landed against with a thud. The shotgun flew from his grip, skittering across the ground.

"Deuce!"

Caleb looked from Dean's sprawled form to Sam, who was continuing to move towards the cliff as if he were sleepwalking. "Shit!" He wasn't exactly picking up on the elemental, but his gut was telling him Sam's intentions were deadly. The thing seemed to be ignoring him for the moment, possibly because of the psychic connection.

Whatever the reason, Reaves took advantage of it. He reached out to the youngest Winchester telepathically as he ran. A loud roaring filled his own mind. He wasn't undaunted as he tried to mentally shield Sam from whatever the hell was happening and physically reach him in time.

"Sammy!" Dean was yelling, moving as quickly as he could to regain his footing. But the force of the wind kept him pinned to the ground as if he were buried under a mound of invisible football players.

Sam continued to ignore Caleb's calls, his steps increasing in speed. He was quickly moving towards the edge.

Reaves added a burst of speed and caught him mid-stride, sending them both to the ground. The psychic prayed he didn't propel their bodies over.

They hit the dirt hard in a tangle of limbs and he felt Sam's breath rush out in a painful gasp. The elemental must have been stunned as well because it released its mental hold on Sam and the kid jerked beneath Caleb's body. Reaves now easily felt the boy's psychic presence again. "Easy," he said, rolling away as Sam shoved against him.

"Caleb?"

"It's okay."

Even as he said the words, the wind picked up around them, gusts plowing into them like the gale force that had assaulted Dean. Okay. So he might have spoken too soon.

Caleb felt his body sliding across the ground and fought for some kind of leverage. He clawed at the dirt and grass with his cast-covered arm as he kept his good hand wrapped around Sam.

"What's…going on?" Sam was still dazed.

Caleb tightened his grip on the younger hunter's wrist as he felt them being pulled closer to the ledge.

"Shit!" Reaves barely managed to lift his head, catching sight of Dean struggling to get to his feet. The elemental must not have been able to focus its energy in two places at once, which was the first bit of good news. "Deuce! A little help here!" He shouted over the roaring.

Dean took a deep breath and made it all the way to standing. The elemental had released him and he could barely make out the wind-tunnel now hovering over Sam and Caleb's prone forms. Not sure if it would do one damn bit of good, but knowing he'd never make it to them in time, he lifted the salt-filled shot gun shooting into the air whirling around them.

Caleb heard the blasts of the shotgun, barely managing to keep his grip on Sam as he helplessly watched the boy's legs go over the ledge. Gravity worked against them, even as the wind died down around him and Sam.

Reaves didn't have time to wonder at the effect of rock salt or to be relieved. More of Sam's lanky body slid over the cliff, soft earth giving way beneath the younger hunter.

Every muscle in Caleb's body protested the strain. His healing ribs and recent sutures flaring red hot beneath the burden of holding Sam's body weight one-armed as he struggled to keep the kid from going the rest of the way over.

"Oh God!" Sam gasped as he felt the emptiness beneath him. For a moment he was falling and then his body jerked, a sharp pain shooting through his shoulder and down his back. "Dean!"

His brother's panicked cry had Dean sliding to his knees beside Caleb. He dropped belly-first onto the ground, his own hands merging with Caleb's to hold Sam. "We've got you."

Together they pulled Sam over the lip of the cliff. As soon as the younger hunter was on a safe perch, Reaves let him go and rolled onto his back with a groan. "Sonuvabitch!" He hissed, wrapping his scraped and bleeding arm over his midsection. "No more fucking burgers for you, Sam."

"Sammy?" Dean kept his hands wrapped around his brother's wrist, pulling him a safer distance away from the ledge. "You okay?"

"What the hell happened?" Sam blinked, resting his head on the ground, panting from the rush of adrenaline.

"The elemental showed up." Dean moved one of his hands to Sam's head, where a large gash was bleeding freely. His brother must have hit it on a rock when Reaves tackled him. "It decided to play with the with the psychic wonder."

Sam blinked up at him. "I could hear it."

"Hey?" Dean ran a hand over his brother's hair, not liking the dazed look or the amount of blood running down Sam's neck to soak his shirt. "You with us?"

Sam winced at his brother's sharp tone. "Yeah. Now."

Dean moved his gaze to Caleb, who was matching Sam in the pale pallor and heavy breathing. "How about you, Damien?"

Reaves lifted his hand from his shirt, flashing the smear of red across his palm. "Oh, I'm good. Nothing some of your fancy stitches won't cure."

"Fuck!" Dean swore tugging his brother to a sitting position and then steadying him as Sam swayed slightly. "I can't take you two anywhere."

"It kept calling to me." Sam tried to explain as if he thought his brother was really angry at him and Caleb. "It kept telling me to take just one more step."

Dean sighed, pulling him the rest of the way to his feet. "Damn, Sammy. How many times have I told you just because your friends jump off a bridge…"

The youngest Winchester glared at his brother, wiping the blood from his face. "I couldn't stop, Dean."

"First rule of being a psychic. Never trust the voices in your head, runt." Caleb grunted as he sat up, holding his re-injured side.

Dean rolled his eyes and held out a hand to Caleb. "Like you've got room to talk."

Reaves accepted the help up. "Injured here."

"Pissed here." Dean let him go, with a shake of his head. Mackland had asked the Winchesters to watch over Caleb during his convalesce, not make it worse.

"Knightly duty. It's in the contract. I've got to watch over you." Reaves let his hand remain on his side. He would definitely need the stronger pain medication.

"Still…" Dean placed a supporting arm on Caleb's shoulder. "How the hell am I supposed to get you two back to the car?"

"Slowly, very slowly," Reaves took a few tentative steps.

"With lots of breaks," Sam suggested as he wiped more blood away.

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a/n: Thanks for all the great reviews everyone. I promise this story has a point, and I will throw in some comfort for this hurt in the next chapter. Thanks also to Tidia for helping finish this up, especially while she was packing!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A/N: First of all, I want to say how incredibly flattered I am that so many people have contacted me to see if Tidia or I was going to do a tag for this past week's episode. We really want to wait and see where Kripke is going first. I had lots of ideas about what would happen...we all have our speculations, but one of the reasons I wrote And the Gates Swung Open was to set up Caleb being out of the picture for this first part. I promise we will have The Brotherhood's reaction, but we don't want to jump the gun before we see where things are going on the show. Again, thanks so much for the interest, and please be patient with us. To answer a couple of concerned readers…this had 'not' affected anything we had planned, in fact it eerily ties in. Your comments are always appreciated. And sorry this story hasn't been updated in quite some time. It is now a back story, but I hope you still enjoy it.

Time Line: Before Noble Obligation. After Synergy and The Pin and The Fork.

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Previously...

"_Hey?" Dean ran a hand over his brother's hair, not liking the dazed look or the amount of blood running down Sam's neck to soak his shirt. "You with us?"_

_Sam winced at his brother's sharp tone. "Yeah. Now."_

_Dean moved his gaze to Caleb, who was matching Sam in the pale pallor and heavy breathing. "How about you, Damien?"_

_Reaves lifted his hand from his shirt, flashing the smear of red across his palm. "Oh, I'm good. Nothing some of your fancy stitches won't cure."_

"_Fuck!" Dean swore tugging his brother to a sitting position and then steadying him as Sam swayed slightly. "I can't take you two anywhere."_

"_It kept calling to me." Sam tried to explain as if he thought his brother was really angry at him and Caleb. "It kept telling me to take just one more step."_

_Dean sighed, pulling him the rest of the way to his feet. "Damn, Sammy. How many times have I told you just because your friends jump off a bridge…"_

_The youngest Winchester glared at his brother, wiping the blood from his face. "I couldn't stop, Dean."_

"_First rule of being a psychic. Never trust the voices in your head, runt." Caleb grunted as he sat up, holding his re-injured side._

_Dean rolled his eyes and held out a hand to Caleb. "Like you've got room to talk."_

_Reaves accepted the help up. "Injured here."_

"_Pissed here." Dean let him go, with a shake of his head. Mackland had asked the Winchesters to watch over Caleb during his convalesce, not make it worse._

"_Knightly duty. It's in the contract. I've got to watch over you." Reaves let his hand remain on his side. He would definitely need the stronger pain medication._

"_Still…" Dean placed a supporting arm on Caleb's shoulder. "How the hell am I supposed to get you two back to the car?"_

_"Slowly, very slowly," Reaves took a few tentative steps._

_"With lots of breaks," Sam suggested as he wiped more blood away._

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**"The only way to ensure that opponents will not get to you is to harm what they care about."-Zhang Yu-The Art of War**

"Ow!"

"Stop being a baby, Sammy." Dean applied the antiseptic drenched cotton ball to his brother's head once again. "Hold still." Sniping at his brother was easier than letting any other emotion past his defenses. He hated seeing Sam hurt.

"Then stop calling me Sammy." The younger Winchester pulled away from his brother's ministrations. "It sets the tone."

Caleb snorted from where he was laying on the converted table bed, holding a bag of frozen peas to his strained shoulder. "And I thought it was the fact we all catered to your every whim and petted your ass for the last twenty years."

"Did not." Sam's countered, knowing it was weak. Caleb was right. The other hunters and Dean had worked very hard to protect Sam from the horrors of the job. But it was his nature to disagree with Reaves because he was the youngest.

"Did to." Reaves's eyes were closed but he sensed the rude body language.

"One time I'd have loved for Jim to catch you doing that." He sighed. "It would have shattered the old man's illusion but so made up for all the times I got busted."

"Or Mac," Dean added, placing the first butterfly bandage over the jagged gash on Sam's forehead. "I'd give money to see it."

Considering Caleb had saved his life and Dean was wielding alcohol and a suture needle, Sam didn't point out the fact the older hunters were jealous. "At least we know the information I dug up about elementals being linked to psychic ability was right on."

Dean winced with Sam as he placed the last bandage on the wound. He was so tired of the patch-up routine. He took a deep breath, channeling his anger elsewhere. "Would have been nice if Sawyer could have warned us about that when he was giving Damien the ghoulish greenhouse spill."

"It didn't come up," Reaves murmured.

"Because it's easy to forget that you and Sam have freaky powers."

Caleb rose, shooting his friend a smirk. "Don't be hating on the gifted, Dean. You're special in your own way too."

Dean waved the alcohol menacingly at him. "You're next."

"Why did it go after me?" Sam accepted the two Tylenol his brother handed him along with a bottle of water.

The older Winchester snorted. "My guess is the big bulls-eye tattooed on your ass."

"I'm serious, Dean."

"Then ask the Jedi Master over there."

Reaves shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but it could have sensed your defenses weren't as strong. I didn't even get a blip on the radar until it went after you."

"So it targeted the weakest link." Sam said, disgusted.

Dean squeezed his shoulder. "You're not a chink in the armor, Sammy. That bitch just went after the better-looking head case."

Sam rolled his eyes, despite the rush of warmth from his brother's steadfast defense. "Thanks."

"It could have also sensed your untapped potential."

"Don't try to make up now, Damien." Dean moved towards the older hunter. "Sammy's not that easy. You at least need to spring for dinner for your callous remark."

Caleb ignored the oldest Winchester sibling. "You kind of stand out-your emotions betray you," he continued, more to himself than the Winchesters. "It would have probably been drawn to you like a beacon."

"Where are you going?" Dean asked with a hint of frustration. "You're still bleeding on the Dolly décor." The best way to deal with Reaves was to pretend that patching him up was a burden, not a necessity. "I'd like to take a shower before daybreak."

"Anything I add to this room would be an improvement to the sensory nightmare." Caleb grumbled as he one-handedly dug through one of his bags, removing a black pouch before gingerly making his way over to Sam. "Reminds me of the time Jim let Sammy choose the color for your bed room."

"Sam." The youngest Winchester corrected, half-heartedly. "And blue and orange go together."

Caleb grinned. "Only if you're a Gators fan, Runt."

"You boys can discuss college ball after I'm done playing doctor." Dean held up the first aide kit. "I'm charging by the hour." All he wanted to do was put them back together and then tear that fucking elemental apart.

Reaves winced as he sat down on the bed near Sam. "Try this." He turned the pouch upside down and a black stone fell out. Caleb handed it to him.

"Obsidian?" Sam frowned.

"Snowflake Obsidian. It neutralizes emotions that others put out, which can help if you're empathic. But it can also shield a person's abilities if they don't want to go around like a neon road sign for the psychic hotline."

Sam looked at him. "I'm that bad?"

Caleb smiled to soften the truth. "Remember Rudolph's nose?"

The younger hunter groaned. "Yeah."

"This will help. Make sure you keep it on you, at least until you can get enough control to tone it down."

Dean recognized the pained look on his brother's face and almost wished it had to do with forehead gash. He could put a band aid on that. "Could be worse, Sammy. Remember when Rudolph's dad made him wear the black cover on his nose?" He looked at his brother and grinned. "You use to cry because it made him sound funny."

"He cried because the other reindeer made fun of Rudolph." Caleb shook his head. "He was a pansy even way back then."

Sam recognized the distraction, appreciating it. He slapped Reaves on the side, smirking when the older hunter grimaced. "Maybe because somebody catered to my every whim and petted my ass."

"He's agreeing again." Caleb glanced up at Dean. "He can't be hurt too bad. He'll be chanting before long."

"What can I say? I'm a miracle worker." Dean motioned for the other hunter. "Your turn."

Caleb paled slightly. He really didn't relish the idea of anybody working on him, especially Dean. It wasn't so much the pain. It was the idea of watching the whole ordeal displayed on the younger hunter's face. And no matter how hard the kid tried to hide the guilt he felt, Caleb could still read him like a book and sense his emotional turmoil. It was worse than any physical torture. "Just give me the kit, I can do it myself."

"Come on, Damien. You're worse than Sammy. I'll give you a lollipop when we're done."

The psychic rolled his shoulders, resigning himself to his fate. He made to stand up when the ringing of his cell stopped him. "Saved by the bell."

"No you don't." Dean grabbed the phone, pointing a finger at Reaves to stay put. "Yeah?"

"_One message is sufficient, you know. Three was really overkill in my book."_

_Joshua. _Dean heard what sounded like classical music in the background and surmised that Sawyer thought he was speaking to Caleb.

"_And was there really a need to get your father involved?" _

Dean rolled his eyes as the blond hunter continued to ramble on. So Caleb had called in The Scholar. "I suggested we just come get your scrawny ass ourselves but Saint Sam was the voice of reason."

"_Deuce?"_

Dean could hear the amusement in the other's tone. Joshua wouldn't have been so smug if they were speaking in person.

"_I see you faired well from the encounter with the Paralda. Am I to assume that Reaves is still breathing?" _

"Are you worried?"

"_Of course not." _

"You should be." Dean stepped out of Caleb's reach as the older man made a grab for the phone. "And you can assume I'm not real happy about the lack of information that nearly got my brother and Caleb killed. That's like the third time your half-assed intel has gotten someone fucked up."

"_I suppose they are both in one piece?" _

Dean thought the blond hunter almost sounded concerned. Almost. With Joshua you could never tell. "More or less."

"_It's your own fault. I could have warned you about the sylph's attraction to psychic frequencies but as you and the wonder boys are always pointing out, you're quite the aficionados when it comes to our profession."_

"It's wonder twins, you idiot, and…"

Caleb snatched the phone while Dean was busy picking up steam in what was bound to be an amusing and colorful conversation, but at the moment they couldn't afford to be entertained. "Josh? We need a way to stop this thing so stop screwing around, go look into that crystal ball of yours and…"

"_It's good to know you're well enough to be your usual distasteful self. And as in typical fashion you have insulted the one person who could probably assist you. I don't have a crystal ball to consult nor would I…" _

"I don't care if you pull the information out of your ass, Sawyer," Caleb interrupted. "I know you've dealt with the sylph before."

"_Yes and I explained to you about the bush we used to find its location. Check the area for the highest peak that the plant likes to grow in abundance and…"_

"And we know all that, Josh. What we don't know is how to contain it until we can read the banishing spell."

"_Yes, that has proven to be a problem."_

"A problem you fixed obviously or did you just leave that job unfinished."

"_No. I happen to take my work seriously. Ian determined a way to attract the elemental using a frequency not unlike that which psychic's use. As you apparently found out they are drawn to those with ability." _

Caleb frowned. "That sounds uncharacteristically clever of Ian."

"_Well, I suspect he had input, but at the moment I was merely thankful to have a solution to the issue." _

"Meaning you didn't ask any questions."

"_He's in the area if you want me to contact him. I believe he and Silas are in North Carolina. They could probably reach you and the Hardy boys by morning." _

"That sounds uncharacteristically helpful of you, Josh." Caleb glanced at Dean. "Get in touch with them. Tell Ian to call me when he gets close to our position."

"_Ah,yes. Deliverance country."_

"Ian should fit in."

"_Play nice. It's hard enough to find anyone to come to your rescue as it is." _

Caleb instantly recognized the look on Dean's face. It was so John-like. He cut the connection with Sawyer and tossed his phone on the bed. Putting his hands on his hips, he sighed. "Look, Deuce, you're going to have to deal with other hunters. Sawyer said Ian knows how to handle these sonsofbitches. So unless you have a better idea we're going to have to team up."

"I don't have a problem working with other hunters, just hunters I can't trust."

Reaves held his gaze. "I didn't say I trusted them either."

"Considering your track record with Ian and Fisher, I'd say that's a smart move there, Damien."

"I should have never told Sam about the damn run-in with them." He looked at the youngest Winchester. "And he wasn't suppose to share with you. How many times do I have to say it? We were kids."

"You were fifteen." Sam pointed out. "But Ian and the others were nearly my age."

"Exactly." Caleb nodded. "You're still naïve and doe-eyed."

"Last time I checked twenty wasn't exactly the toddler years." Dean couldn't wrap his mind around why Caleb wouldn't admit that what Ian, Fisher, and Joshua had done was unforgivable. They had nearly killed him. Yet, he was willing to let bygones be bygones, which went against everything Dean knew to be true about Reaves. "And don't you find this last run-in with the merry band of hunters a bit of a coincidence, as Maggie would say."

"You still don't know Fisher had anything to do with that."

"And you don't know he didn't."

"Fine," Caleb conceded. "We're not sure about Fisher. But he's not coming. Ian is. Sylas is."

"Ian's not your biggest fan either," the older Winchester said.

Was Dean really trying to make his headache worse? "Yeah. Well, I imagine having your brother killed kind of sours a person. He thought it should have been me. Hell, I don't begrudge him that. I'd have been pissed if that thing had eaten you or Sammy."

Dean started towards Reaves with the medical kit again. "Just because that thing thought Rick might taste better than you doesn't give him the right to hold a grudge all these years."

Caleb shook his head, gesturing to Sam for some help. "Deuce, let it go."

Sam waved off the rescue. "Hey, man, Ian was going to kill you on that hunt. If Joshua hadn't knocked him out, you would have been a goner."

"Mercy killing." Caleb countered. "I told him to finish it. Better than being left for dessert for that thing."

"We would have never left you." Dean said, fiercely. "I made that clear."

"Maybe he didn't realize exactly what stubborn pains in the asses the Winchesters were until that moment. Besides like I said, he just lost his brother. He was distraught."

"Yeah. Well, he wasn't the only one." Dean tried not to let the memories resurface. He couldn't understand why Reaves was being so pigheaded about the issue. "Why the hell are you defending him?"

Caleb glanced heavenward. Why couldn't he just channel Jim and explain things to Dean in a way he would be able to accept. As the Guardian, the kid would have to be neutral. The prosperity of The Brotherhood depended on it. Their lives depended on it. "Why are you trying to alienate us more than we already are? We don't need to make more enemies. As Josh so kindly pointed out, it's hard to find people to cover our asses now."

"It's kind of hard **not** to make enemies when we don't know who our friends are."

"I get that. But at the moment we need their help." Caleb gestured to himself and Sam. "We're walking targets and as you pointed out last night. I'm not up to watching anyone's back."

Dean frowned. He regretted bringing that up. "I'm not turning my back on them."

"Fine." Caleb finally sat on the bed, signaling his resignation to Dean's treatment. "Sleep with one eye open. I just want to banish this thing and get the hell out of Dolly's mobile museum."

"Are you sure they'll even come?" Sam spoke up. "When's the last time either of you worked a job with them."

Dean and Caleb shared a quick look. Reaves answered. "Silas helped us and Johnny out with some hell hounds a few years back."

Dean studied the row of stitches on the older hunter's side to see if they needed re-suturing. He could feel his brother's gaze on him. They didn't talk much about the 'quiet years'.

"He saved Dean's life," Caleb added.

Dean made a point of placing an alcohol soaked bandage over the bleeding half of Reaves's wound. He pressed harder than necessary.

Caleb hissed, jerking away from Winchester's ministrations. "Damn, Deuce!"

"He saved your life?" Sam queried, undeterred.

"Damien pulled me from the river."

"No." The older hunter watched Dean warily as he applied the butterfly bandages. "I nearly drowned myself."

Dean huffed. "Then he was following hunting protocol. It wasn't some act of loyalty."

"Just like we're following protocol by calling in back-up." Reaves decided to use some Jim Murphy logic. "We can't let anyone else die."

"I guess you're with him?" Dean raised his gaze to meet his brother's. "I'm outvoted?"

"It's better than you doing the job alone." Sam nodded. "Caleb and I could make matters worse."

"And we don't have a clue as to how to corral the Paralda, which is pretty much the most important thing," Reaves studied the bandages.

"Fine." Dean closed the first aid kit, shooting Reaves an exasperated look. "But I'm not above saying I told you so if this gig goes to hell."

"Never thought you were, Deuce." Caleb grinned, gave Sam a side-long glance. "In fact, Sammy and I wouldn't expect anything less."

_RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ_

"That's it?" Caleb studied the small silver box. "I was expecting something more like the trap from Ghost-busters."

"This is a piece of highly sensitive state of the art electronic equipment." Ian Hastings replied with a hint of rebuke.

"That you created?" Dean lifted an eyebrow then looked at Reaves. "Didn't he come up with that black dog tracking device of Sawyer's?"

"Yeah." Reaves laughed. "Let's hope this thing actually works."

"Oh it works, Reaves." Hastings's face twisted in disdain and he straightened his shoulders. He was tall and fit, but didn't measure up to Reaves's or Winchester's stature. "I might not have attended some fancy college but I do okay."

Sam and Caleb exchanged looks and the older psychic grinned. "I think he's talking about us, Einstein."

"Can we get on with this?" Silas Fox asked, shifting from foot to foot. He was growing impatient with the bickering between the younger men. It seemed his fate to be partnered with hunters like Ian Hastings, never having breached the inner-sanctum of The Brotherhood.

The Winchesters and Reaves had met up with Fox and Hastings at Clingman's Dome just as the sun rose. Besides being an incredible look out point, providing a breathtaking view of the Smokey Mountains, the popular tourist attraction allowed access to several hiking trails. One led to Andrew's Bald, the third highest point in the United States-home to a lavish supply of catawba. Research had shown if an air elemental was in the area, Andrew's Bald would be its likely lair. Fortunately, the early spring season and ungodly hour provided them privacy as they unloaded their gear. Continued solitude was not guaranteed. Still, the boys, caught up in exchanging barbs and snide comments, didn't seem to understand.

It was too reminiscent of the horrible hunt he had once been forced to go on with John Winchester, Bobby Singer and Harland Sawyer. The contempt was as palpable then as now, the tension thick, like the fog surrounding them.

Fox had kept his frustration to himself all those years ago as was in his nature. But this time, Silas was ready to explode as he and the younger hunters worked their way through the bog-infested mile-long twisting trail. Perhaps age was wearing away his patience. "We don't need any unsuspecting nature lovers joining us," he pointed out when the boys merely stared at him without acknowledgement.

"What do we need to do first?" Sam finally asked since no one else was willing to concede.

"I have my part ready." Ian gestured to the shiny silver box he placed in the ceremonial circle. "Have you all got the ritual?"

Dean nodded to the book Sam was holding. "I call your bid and raise you five."

Silas exhaled heavily, shoving a hand through his hair. "The Paralda will know exactly what we're up to when we start reading that verse. It could get ugly quickly. We need to be prepared." He looked at Reaves. "You said salt seemed to repel it, if only momentarily?"

Caleb nodded, held up the shotgun he was holding. "Kept it from sending me and Sammy on an unplanned free-base jump."

"Good. In case this doesn't work, we'll have something to defend ourselves."

"Oh. It'll work." Ian quipped.

Dean rolled his eyes at the other hunter's cockiness but nodded to Sam who had opened their father's journal. "Go ahead, Sammy. I'm dying to see Pandora do her stuff."

"One of us should do it," Ian said to Dean. "Elementals like to feed off of psychics. All we need is for him to fuck up the ritual."

Both Winchesters looked at Hastings. It wasn't surprising that others knew about Sam's abilities, especially members of The Brotherhood. But it was disconcerting just the same.

"There are no real secrets, Winchester." Ian flicked his gaze to Caleb. "Just ask your good buddy there."

"I know your Latin sucks, Deuce." Caleb cut off any arguments from the eldest Winchester. "But it's still probably a lot better than Ian's grasp on the English language."

Sam handed the leather book to his brother, accepting the salt-filled shotgun from him. "Let's just get this over with, Dean."

Dean gestured to the silver instrument sitting on the ground. "When does your magic box come to life?"

"I'll turn it on when the sylph shows itself. We'll only have a small window to work with after it senses the Siren."

"The Siren?" Caleb raised a brow. "You named your gadget?"

Ian's face reddened. "It puts out a frequency the Paralda is drawn to," he defended. "It recognizes it as a sort of psychic being and wants to link up. But we finish it before it gets the chance. I thought the name was appropriate seeing as how it calls the elemental to its ultimate doom."

"He probably pulled the wings off butterflies as a child." Sam muttered to his brother, noticing the gleam in Hastings's eyes.

"Go for it, Deuce. I got me and Sam covered now that I know what to expect." Caleb turned to the younger Winchester sibling, tapped his head and grinned. "Just in case…shields to full strength, Chewy."

Sam rolled his eyes, but mentally braced himself for any attack.

"Any day now." Ian's hand hovered over the box.

Dean glanced at the woods surrounding the clearing and began the passage. At first nothing seemed different but then a hush fell over them.

Birds stopped singing; the occasional creak and rustle of tree limbs silenced. Winchester's deep voice rang out loud and clear in the early dawn like church bells on Sunday morning. Even the air around them stilled.

Then a strong breeze filled the bald picking up scattered piles of dead leaves pulling them from the ground in tornado-like spins.

"Here it comes." Caleb picked up the presence before the wind started, the annoying whistling sound penetrated his mind. "And it's not happy."

Dean gestured to Ian's Siren. "Now would be a good time, Hastings."

Sam sensed the Paralda, a slight pressure inside his skull, like the beginning of a vision. He took a deep breath and pushed back, shooting an unsure glance to Reaves. The older man forced a reassuring smile, and Sam felt the extra surge of energy. Caleb was shielding him.

The wind rose, dirt kicked up around them as Dean continued to read the Latin verse. Ian knelt beside the box, glanced up at Caleb. "I think you're going to like this Reaves."

Caleb barely heard the other hunter over the roar of the gale force pummeling them, but the insect-torturing gleam was back in Ian's eyes. It worried him.

Ian had never liked Caleb. As boys he excluded Reaves, shunning and ridiculing Joshua and the others if they dared to cross the invisible line he had drawn to separate the 'real' hunters from the mongrels. Ian started the fight that fateful day in October that landed Caleb in the hospital. His taunts about demon blood had fueled Caleb's attitude, even though John had warned him to play it cool. His comments about the Winchesters and Reaves's involvement in their mother's death finally drew the younger man into battle. Ian had set a trap and Caleb was presently getting the same vibe. But like then, it was too late for Reaves to one damn thing about it.

The explosion of intense pain inside his head erased any concerns about Ian, replaced them with complete agony. He fell to his knees, Sam's misery joining his from the link Caleb used to offer protection.

Reaves gasped, trying to regain control-to shield the younger psychic. Whatever blindsided them was too strong to be an elemental, but obviously linked to their abilities. Caleb fought to understand even as he felt his grasp on Sam and consciousness fading.

Dean was distracted by the human like howl of the wind that echoed around them, whipping twigs and debris across his exposed skin. He continued reading and watched in fascination as the Paralda reacted immediately to the box. Once the Siren was turned on, it produced a funnel and the Paralda took a sort of corporeal form above.

Ian scampered backwards, grinned in smug satisfaction as the sylph twisted and bounced around his creation.

At first Dean thought the elemental was trying to flea, but then it became clear the Paralda was attempting to get inside the gadget. It was drawn to it like a magnet. A psychic magnet.

"Keep reading," Silas commanded as the wind once again died down to a strong breeze. "We've got it where we want it."

"Dean!"

The gasped plea from his brother had Dean faltering. He glanced towards the younger Winchester. Sam was on his knees cradling his head in pain.

"What the…Sammy?"

It didn't make sense. The elemental was focused over Ian's gadget and even the chaos around them was quieting. From their previous encounter they had discovered the Paralda could not focus its energy in more than one place for very long. It shouldn't have been able to attack Sam.

"Go on!" Ian shouted again, breaking Winchester's reverie.

Dean stumbled through another word, but shifted his attention to Caleb hoping the other hunter could take care of Sam.

But Reaves was down too. The older psychic was slumped forward, his forehead touching the ground.

Dean stopped reading. The Paralda continued to thrash about in Ian's instrument. "Caleb?"

A pain-filled growl was his reply. Dean quickly moved to Sam's side. "Sam!" He placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Hey?"

"You need to finish the ritual." Ian gestured towards the tumultuous cloud suspended above the box "If it penetrates the steel, it will fry the circuitry."

"What the hell is wrong with my brother and Caleb?" Dean demanded when Sam continued writhing beneath his grasp. It was worse than any of his brother's vision episodes. Silas and Ian looked far too calm. "What the fuck is going on?"

Ian shrugged, giving Fox a sidelong glance. "I guess we should have mentioned the side effects."

"Side effects?" Dean pulled his gaze from his brother and glanced at Caleb, who was curled in a fetal position, his head covered with his arms. He shook, his body jerking in a convulsion.

Dean turned murderous eyes to Ian. "What the hell did you two do? The box is hurting them?"

"The Siren discourages the use of psychic ability." Silas answered. Both of John Winchester's boys were quick-witted. There was no need to carry the charade any further. "Griffin discovered the effect when testing it. The more a psychic fights, the worse the effect."

"Griffin?" Dean growled, slowly standing up as dark realization set in. The sylph wasn't the only one being led into a trap. "You two work for Griffin? This is some kind of weapon to use against hunters?"

"Not just any hunters…" Ian started, but Silas cut him off.

"It's not a weapon, Dean," Fox corrected. "It merely levels the playing field. As long as a psychic doesn't use their abilities then they're not harmed. If they would just let go…"

"Too bad your boys don't know the meaning of backing down," Ian interrupted. "And they sure were all gung-ho to pull out the super powers."

"You sonofabitch!" Dean snarled. "They were defending themselves!" He pointed to the metal box. "You set them up! This is some kind of sick demonstration of power."

Ian stood his ground. "It is a sort of demonstration, but it has little to do with them." Hastings jutted his chin towards the leather journal in Dean's hand. "Finish the incantation, Winchester."

Sam was whimpering now and it tore at every protective instinct Dean had nurtured over the last twenty-three years. Caleb had stopped moving all together. "Turn it off!" Dean dropped his father's journal to the ground, pulled the weapon he had hidden in the back of his jeans. He pointed the gun at Ian's head. "Now!"

Hastings was almost as quick, pulling his own gun and aiming it at Reaves. "Finish the verse or I'm sending your buddy back to hell where he belongs."

"Ian!" Silas reprimanded. "Put your gun away!"

"No." Hastings shook his head. "He's going to finish the damn thing. People's lives are at stake. If that thing gets loose, it will be on his head. Either way, we'll have our answer once and for all."

"The only thing I'm going to finish is you, Hastings!" Dean flicked the safety off. "Turn the fucking box off!"

"What? You going to murder me, Dean? I wear a ring." Ian smirked. "What would Jim Murphy think?"

"What would he think of you?" Dean shouted, gesturing to Sam and Caleb. "They have rings. They're part of the next fucking Triad!"

"Triad!" Ian laughed. "The Knight and The Scholar?" Hastings shook his head. "That'll happen over my dead body."

"You're trying to take them out?"

"No!" Silas barked. "We are not in the business of murder. We're trying to do what is best for The Brotherhood."

"And we're trying to prove a point."

"What fucking point?" Dean demanded.

"That you can't do your job," Ian answered.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're too caught up in taking care of your so called family. And for what? A brother who is destined to switch sides, to turn against you and all that you and your father have fought for. Then there's your so called best friend."

Hastings snorted. "His fucked-up cult leader of a grandfather summoned and let loose the very demon that screwed your life to hell. Caleb and little Sammy are both tainted by the thing you and you're father spent every stinking minute hunting and deep down inside you know it."

"Shut up!"

Ian continued, enjoying both the physical and mental anguish he was causing. "Didn't you ever wonder why their abilities are so similar? Why they're so powerful? Jim Murphy did. He knew. And he tried to use it to his advantage. Griffin warned him over and over again, but the old pastor thought he could harness their 'gifts', stack the deck on our side. Pull a quick one over on the demon. He thought it was an ingenious plan to raise demon spawn to run the next Triad." Ian jerked the gun harshly towards Caleb again. "You should be begging me to finish Reaves." Ian's finger tightened on the trigger. "I won't tell anyone, if you don't."

Dean's grip tightened on his own weapon. "Do it and you'll be dead before you hit the ground," he promised.

"Now is not the time for this!" Silas reasoned. "Griffin told you about your personal agenda Ian." Fox momentarily gazed at the sylph wildly pummeling the Siren. "We have to focus on the task at hand."

A popping and crackling noise from the box heralded the accuracy of Fox's declaration and drew the three hunter's attention to the Paralda.

"Time's running out, Winchester," Ian said. "You going to finish the job or was Jim Murphy as much of a loon as I think he was."

Dean kept his gun leveled on Ian, his eyes going to Caleb. He still hadn't moved. Dean wasn't sure he was still breathing.

"Dean," Silas tried. "Sometimes the good of the many must come first."

"Fuck you, man." Dean swung the gun towards the box. Sam had collapsed completely to the ground, his body jerking and twitching in pain. Only one choice made sense to Dean. Stop the thing hurting his brother and Caleb.

Silas stepped forward, his hands held out in a placating manner. "Jim Murphy once told me you were special because you had not only the heart of a fierce warrior but the head of a brilliant general."

Again the box snapped and blue sparks shot out it. It was bounced off the ground by the undeterred Paralda, bent on absorbing more of its enticing energy.

Silas's voice rose, his tone harsher, more commanding. "If it's released, it will go after the next best thing."

Dean raised his gaze to meet Silas's. The man was playing his trump card.

"No more cheering from the sideline, Fox," Ian chided. "Who's side are you on?"

Silas glared at Hastings. "If he fails, we all could die."

"Or not." Hastings snorted. "I figure we can make our getaway while the sylph gets it belly full of the pretty boys."

"Damn it, Ian!" Silas snapped. "That still doesn't protect the innocents in this area. That is our main objective."

Dean ignored the battle of wills. He cast an unsure glance to his brother and Caleb and prayed he was doing the right thing. He reset the safety lock on his gun, shoved the weapon into the back of his jeans, and bent to retrieve the journal.

It was the decision Jim Murphy would make. Dean's chest tightened and there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was living one of his worst nightmares.

The words were not as confident this time and not piercing as before, Dean's voice catching several times as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. But with the last sentence, a bright flash filled the area of Andrew's Bald and the Paralda vanished. The Siren fell to the ground with an unsatisfying clunk, where it smoked and sizzled unimpressively.

"Good work, Winchester." Ian shook his head. "I guess we could make a pretty good team."

Ian bent down to turn the box off but jumped back when a bullet kicked up the dirt in front of him.

"You idiot!" he bellowed, whipping his head in Dean's direction.

The younger man once again held his gun at the ready. "I don't trust you, Hastings. Let Silas do it."

Silas cautiously did as Winchester said, aware the young man could kill them both if he so chose. He hissed as his hand came in contact with the hot metal, but quickly took hold of the main switch and shut off the Siren. "It's off."

Dean cast an unsure glance to his brother and Caleb. "It's not affecting them now?"

Ian was the one to answer. "I'm sure they'll come around soon."

"I should kill you." Dean swung his gun between the other hunters. "Both of you."

"You have more reasons not to," Silas told him.

"Yeah. Name one."

"I can name two." Fox gestured to the downed men. "You'll need our help to get them down the trail. They may need medical assistance."

"Like you have their best interests at heart."

"Perhaps not," Silas conceded. "I believe they both may be better off if they were put out of their misery. But that's not my choice. Wiser men than myself have said otherwise."

"He's telling the truth," Ian piped up, realizing his life was in jeopardy. "They were exposed for longer than any of Griffin's test subjects."

"You're not helping your case, Hastings." Dean flicked his eyes to Ian. "I only need one more pair of hands. What's to keep me from killing you?"

"People know we are here. Helping you on this hunt." Again Silas tried to be the voice of reason. It would have been more effective without the stuttering and unsure cadence.

"I talked to my good friend Joshua this morning," Ian added. "I mean he sent us here. It's not going to look good if I turn up missing. I have powerful allies in The Brotherhood. Can you say the same? And really, how many dead hunters can you explain away, Winchester?"

"One more shouldn't be a problem."

Muffled voices coming from the trail behind them took the decision from Dean's hands. Silas jerked his chin towards the box. "Get rid of that thing." He glanced to Dean. "And put your gun away. We can't risk exposure."

Ian picked up the box and slung it towards the woods. It disappeared in a tangle of catawba and undergrowth.

The bark of a dog preceded the entrance of two men and a young woman into the Bald. A Golden Retriever whined and pulled at it's leash as the three hikers took in the scene around them.

A blond guy wearing a bright orange UT shirt and faded ball cap stepped forward. "What the hell happened, Dude? Are you guys alright?"

"Craziest damn thing," Ian said, his voice taking on the perfect inflection of awe. "Freak thunderstorm came out of nowhere. I think our buddies might have been struck by lightning."

Dean blocked him out. Silas had quickly hid the ceremonial artifacts and shotguns in their duffels. Dean put their father's journal away as he knelt next to his brother. Besides the fact two of their party were lying prone on the ground, they looked like any average nature explorer. "Sammy?" He placed a hand on the side of the younger man's neck and was relieved when a steady beat of a pulse greeted his sensitive fingers. "Stay with me, kid."

"Is he breathing?" The woman's voice had Dean looking up. Ian was kneeling next to Caleb and the hikers were leaning over them studying the injured psychic.

"Yeah," Ian answered, with feigned relief. "Thank God for small miracles."

"Get away from him." Dean stood, reluctant to leave his brother, but unwilling to let Ian put his hands on Caleb. He should have Hastings when he had the chance.

"Easy, Son," Silas soothed, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'm sure your brother will be fine." The older hunter smoothly slid into a stellar performance, as he turned a pleading gaze to the newcomers. "My boys and I would really appreciate it if you guys could help us out."

"No problem." The other man in the hiking party replied. "I'll call 9-1-1. They can probably have medics waiting for us at the Dome. We'll help you get them back down the trail. "

Dean started to open his mouth to object, but two thoughts stopped him. He couldn't explain denying medical treatment to a bunch of strangers and he had no idea how badly his brother and Caleb were hurt. Physical injuries he could deal with, but this was definitely in Mackland Ames's territory.

The thought of the doctor filled him with hope and dread.

He could call Mackland and have him hop the next flight to Tennessee. Sam and Caleb would be in the best possible hands. But that meant he had to _call_ Mackland…and tell him how he had failed.

"This is like the third or fourth freak natural disaster in a week!"

Dean heard the woman tell the boy in the UT cap, and he wanted to voice that she should try living in his world for a while.

"It's weird, alright." The blond guy replied. "Wonder if Al Gore knows about this?"

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Only a couple more chapters to go…..


	5. Chapter 5

Who Your Friends Are

Chapter 5

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Sorry this was late in coming guys. It's been a hard chapter for me. We all owe Tidia thanks for her patience as I have been contrary about this section. She always makes me work harder-in a good way-looking at what I've done, how it could be better. I'm still learning. I'm glad she does all this for free, if I paid her what she was worth, I'd be broke. I'm sure Winter and November's Guest feel the same way.

There's a lot going on in here, some hints about things that have happened in the past…things to come. New stories on the horizon because of this little part…Tidia's Rites of Passage will tell the story of that now infamous incident with Caleb, Josh, Ian and Fisher. I'm so excited to read it. Wills is still working on Stranded-Caleb's history. And I have a one shot coming up called Priorities…just some fluff and hurt comfort because heck…I wanted it. Kind of like when I splurge and eat a 'REAL' chocolate milkshake ignoring all fat grams and servings of sugar.

Speaking of awesome treats Tara has made an incredible fan video for the Brotherhood. She is awesome. I'm typing out the addy on YouTube because you know how fanficnet is. Go view it and leave her a comment. Trust me. It's worth it.

http(colon)(backslash)(backslash)www(dot)youtube(dot)com(backslash)watch?v4Hjqtms6LBw

Also, Sensue has a list of The Brotherhood stories in order up on her page Sensue(dot)net. Thanks so much to her.

Okay…enough with the notes already.

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"_**It requires more courage to suffer, than to die." –**_

_**Napoleon Bonaparte**_

Dean wasn't allowed to ride in the ambulance. After giving basic information to the EMT and getting directions to the small hospital, Dean returned to the Impala to find Ian and Silas gone. They vanished quickly, depriving Winchester swift justice. He wasn't sure he wouldn't have killed them-especially Ian.

On his way down the mountain, the unnatural quiet gave Dean time to vacillate between thinking through worthy revenge plots to obsessing about his childhood nightmare. The persistent nightmare won in the end, taunting the young hunter with its fatalism.

The reoccurring dream was set in a garden overrun by blush-colored roses-a sanctuary with winged cement dragons jutting from reflection pools of thick, red water. Through out the years the pools had held different victims from Dean's life. Sam would reappear there often, dead and lifeless in the murky depths. Caleb made appearances, as did John. Cassie had even showed up once.

More disturbing than the vivid images though, was the omniscient voice that spoke to Dean in his mind as he stood frozen and helpless to reach those he would have died for. '_Death comes for you, Dean, but finds the ones you love.' _It summed up what Dean feared most- left alone in the world.

To Dean it had become an unholy masochistic mantra he would hear when danger was near or someone he was close to was threatened. The only positive was it drove him to fight harder-to never fail. He had lost so much already. His mother. His Dad. Jim. And now Sam and Caleb…

Sitting in the ER it echoed around him. God. He would have traded places with either of them. Not even knowing the extent of their injuries, Dean Winchester would have jumped at the chance to make an even swap-his life for Caleb's or Sam's. It was the way it should have been. Ian alluded to as much.

"Dean!"

Mackland Ames's voice broke the painful enchantment-the useless self recriminations. It had never been so welcomed and Dean clung to it like a life preserver tossed to him in a tumultuous sea.

Winchester quickly raised his gaze from the tiled hospital floor and choked back a sob of relief. "Mac."

The doctor crossed the room quickly, meeting up with Dean just as the younger hunter stood on shaky legs. He didn't give Dean time to speak before he was pulled into a rough hug. "Thank God you're alright, Son."

Mackland pushed him back, retaining his hold on Dean's shoulders. His gray eyes roamed over the younger hunter, searching for any overt injury. "When Naomi called me with your message, she said there was some sort of accident and that you and the boys…" Mackland stopped talking, searched the unfamiliar faces around them. "Where are your brother and Caleb?"

Dean swallowed hard, trying to control the runaway feelings threatening to takeover. "They're…they wouldn't let me go back to the examination room…no one's told me one damn thing, Mac."

"They're being examined?"

"We've been here for hours."

Hours. That didn't sound good. Ames kept a grip on Dean's arm and headed for the nurses station. "I'm Dr. Mackland Ames. I need to know how my son and nephew are. They were brought in some time ago

The woman behind the computer looked up from her work. "Sir, if you're with Mr. Conner," she turned a stern gaze to Dean, "then I'll tell you the same thing I have repeatedly told him." She leveled her dark eyes on Mackland. "The doctors are with your son and nephew and as soon as they are able they will come out to talk with you."

"Can you at least give me their current status?"

The nurse frowned at him. "If you're a physician, then you know the answer to that."

"Fine." Mackland growled. "Will you at least tell the Chief of Staff I'm here? I could be of assistance."

"Do you really want me to interrupt treatment to announce your presence?"

Ames pushed away from the counter, not dignifying the attitude with an answer. He guided Dean to the waiting area.

"_Fine?_" Dean shook his head. "That's it? That's your big comeback? What the hell happened to the _'Don't you know who I am?'_ speech, Mac? Aren't you going to bust in there-kick some intern ass? I want to know what's going on."

The doctor led the younger hunter to a chair, motioned for him to sit. "We can't bring any unwanted attention, Dean. I have serious doubts that many people here have read my medical journal articles or care to hear my resume." Mackland held up a hand to cut off the protest he could see building in the green depths. "Antagonizing them will only get us tossed out. Do you want that?"

"No." Dean sat down. All he wanted was to know his brother and Caleb were going to be alright.

Mac took the seat beside him. "Dean? Tell me what happened."

Winchester took a deep breath; let it out slowly to gather his thoughts. All they had was time. "We were on a hunt…for an elemental." Dean glanced at the doctor. "We couldn't figure out how to trap the damn thing."

"An elemental? They're attracted to psychic ability." Mac pursed his lips and his forehead creased. "I remember John hunted one. I helped him with the research."

Dean nodded and told the physician about their first encounter with the sylph. "After the bitch went after Sammy, Caleb called Joshua. Sawyer sent in Ian and Silas for backup."

Mackland realized there were major gaps in the story thus far. "And?"

"And they had some fucking box that was supposed to trap the Paralda until we could vanquish it." Dean's voice rose with each word and several of the ER staff looked his way. He clenched his fists, lowered his tone. "I should have never trusted the bastards. Caleb and his fucked up virtue…"

The doctor laid a hand on Dean's arm. "Take it easy. Just tell me what happened to Sam and Caleb."

Dean painstakingly recounted every grizzly detail to the doctor, watching Mackland's face flush with anger and then pale as the implications sank in.

"What did this weapon do to them?"

"I don't know exactly." Dean didn't hide his frustration. "That's what I was hoping the doctors could tell me, but as you can see no one has said one damn thing."

Mackland continued to watch him, waiting for the more definitive answer. Dean licked his lips. "Hell, Mac. I don't know. They reacted like they do when they have visions…but a lot worse. Caleb was trying to shield Sam because of the Paralda's attack from before. He went down faster."

Dean's watery gaze met the doctor's. "They were both unconscious before it was over. Things got hairy on the way here. The EMT wouldn't tell me much except that they both had some kind of seizure, their blood pressure was doing crazy things, and Caleb…Caleb was in respiratory distress."

Ames leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He ran a finger over his brow, absorbing what Dean told him. He finally looked at the younger hunter. "It would make sense if the box used a frequency similar to what is created when the area of their brain that we believe responsible for psychic phenomena is being used." Mackland made an affirmative 'un huh' to himself. "It would seek out the similar frequency and relate it back to the mechanism in a loop."

"Frequency? Sort of like how an EMF picks up spirit activity?" Dean interrupted the doctor's brainstorming.

"Similar in process. Yes." Mackland agreed. "But on an opposite spectrum. Instead of only receiving the electrical impulse, this box sent it back out. It could have used an ultra high frequency sound, like a dog whistle. The government has being doing research in the area of sound and how it can stimulate areas of the brain."

"Like some kind of death ray?"

Mackland snorted. "Perhaps." He shook his head at Dean's analogy. "Exposure to a source that reacted to energy pathways of psychic nuance could definitely explain Sam and Caleb's pain reaction. Parts of the brain that control pain can be manipulated. Caleb knows how to utilize that, as well as accessing the medulla oblongata, the area of the organ that controls breathing, heart rate and blood pressure."

"The Darth Vader thing?" Dean asked. He had seen Caleb cut off someone's oxygen supply without even touching them.

Ames sighed. "You and Caleb view entirely too much television. But yes, Star Wars based their use of The Force in paranormal psychic phenomena. What Vader does to his victims is comparable in effect."

Dean rubbed at his forehead. Speaking to Mackland without a translator could be taxing. "I get that the box causes them pain…but could it do major damage?"

"If you consider respiratory distress, heart failure, and grand mal seizures as major damage, then yes."

Dean muddled through the physician speak. "So whatever that box put out clashes with whatever frequency a psychic's brain puts off when they're using their abilities, resulting in one big electrical storm inside their head."

Mackland gave the boy an appreciative nod. "Yes. Like repels like. And unnatural electrical firing in the brain can cause chaos-such as tonic-clonic seizing."

"Like two positively charged magnets."

"Exactly."

Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Griffin that smart?"

"He is." Ames exhaled heavily. "Griffin is also a very powerful psychic himself."

Dean frowned. "What? Why would he want to create a weapon like that?"

"Perhaps like Silas said…to even the playing field. No one better than Griffin would know the advantage that being psychic could herald, nor would anyone but a gifted psychic understand the nuances either." Mackland pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now that I think about it, Griffin could have been working on this device years ago."

"What makes you say that?"

Mac met the younger hunter's puzzled gaze. "The kidnapping."

Dean's face remained blank. "You don't remember?" Ames asked.

"I don't remember much about the kidnapping, Mac. I remember Sam and Caleb …" Dean glanced away. "I was sick through most of it." "I know." Mackland didn't like to think of that time either and he had been an adult-not a ten-year-old little boy fighting a nasty bout of pneumonia. Dean had come close to dying on that mountain. "I couldn't locate you boys with my normal means. It was as if I was being blocked. If the box can prevent psychics from using their abilities it could also probably neutralize other frequencies also."

"Creating a kind of invisibility cloak? Like Caleb's snowflake obsidian trick."

Mackland offered the younger hunter a faint smile. "Yes, obsidian offers a type of shield on a much smaller level."

"Sam had some with him. Do you think that helped protect him from the box?"

"Possibly."

Score one for Caleb. "Mac, could they die?"

"I don't think that was Griffin's intention." Despite the mutinous acts against The Brotherhood, Porter was still not a typical murderer.

"You didn't answer my question."

Luckily for Mackland, the silver bay doors opened, saving him from delivering an answer. A young man in scrubs entered the room.

"Is anyone here for Caleb Reaves and Johnathan Conner?"

"We are," Ames quickly replied.

Dean and Mackland stood as the newcomer crossed the room, quickly coming to stand in front of them. He looked rather harried and slightly bedraggled.

"I'm Doctor Nelson. I've been overseeing Caleb and Johnathan's treatment."

Dean flinched slightly at the use of his father's name. It had been Mac's idea to establish new identities using their middle names and mother's maiden name. Dean preferred using unrealistic pseudonyms like movie characters and rock stars. At least it allowed him to distance himself from any recriminations.

Mackland shook the man's hand. "I'm Doctor Mackland Ames." He gestured to Dean. "This is my nephew, Mathew."

The physician offered them a faint smile. "Amanda informed me that you were a physician. One of my colleagues recognized your name, Dr. Ames?" Nelson quirked a brow. "You are _that_ Dr. Ames. Correct?"

"I am if it allows me access to my son and nephew and warrants news of their conditions."

Nelson nodded, turning to include Dean in his gaze. "I'm sorry for the long wait. Honestly we were having a hard time stabilizing them. The seizures were worrying us, as was the fluctuation in blood pressure."

Dean clenched his fists. "How are they now?"

"The diazepam has finally stopped the seizing, and the blood pressure and heart rate evened out on its own."

"That's good." Mackland nodded. "How about their respiratory functions?"

"Oxygen levels are good with Johnathan." The doctor shifted under Mackland's scrutiny. "Caleb's are improving."

"Can we see them?" Dean preferred to see Caleb and Sam. Touch was a much better indicator of life than all the medical jargon.

"We're sending Johnathan up to ICU, and Caleb to radiology for further tests. How about we speak further in my office?"

"ICU?" Dean questioned as they followed after the physician through the silver doors along a corridor lined with wooden doors. "That can't be good. I thought they were doing better?"

"I assure you it is mostly precautionary." The doctor came to the last door on the left and stopped. "They need to be closely monitored at this point. I personally have never dealt with anyone struck by lightning."

"Lightning?" Mackland asked, shooting Dean a quick look as they were ushered into the tiny office.

"Yes." The doctor closed the door behind them. "Your nephew and son were injured in a storm early this morning."

"You're sure?" Mackland frowned, wondering how Dean had come up with that unlikely but brilliant theory.

"Pretty sure." Nelson took a seat at his desk, opening a chart that was lying there. "As you probably know a lightning injury can cause fluctuations in heart rate, as well as nervous system damage along with breathing difficulties and seizures. Luckily, for your son and nephew, we believe this was a 'splash' injury instead of a direct strike. That would explain the lack of burns."

D Dean frowned. "A splash injury?" He shot Mackland a sidelong glance, trying to convey his concern. He had gone along with Silas's cover story because honestly he had no other reasonable explanation for the injuries. But at the time he didn't know what that entailed. Maybe they should explain to the doctor what really happened-straight jackets and padded rooms be damned.

Ames held up his hand as if he read Dean's train of thought. "The term 'splash' means that the current came through another source, Matthew." Mackland raised a brow. "Like a meter box."

"Or in this case- a tree," Nelson explained.

Dean nodded. If Mackland believed the lightning story would get Sam and Caleb the treatment they needed then he would continue to play along. "Right."

"I'm guessing that's why you weren't affected." Nelson looked at Winchester. "I bet you weren't standing near Caleb or Johnathan when this happened."

"No." Dean lied. "I was on the other side of the Bald when the freak storm came out of nowhere."

Nelson scratched his head. "Yes. We've had several tragic accidents recently, all related to strange weather patterns."

Dean felt Ames's gaze on him and glanced out the window. "Yeah. Global warming's a real bitch."

Mackland took a deep breath. "So you were saying Johnathan and Caleb have stabilized. Have they regained consciousness?"

Dean's gaze returned to the physician, who was frowning again. "No. That's what has me concerned at this point. As you know lighting injuries can have far-reaching and profound consequences. From the MRI we did, their cerebral cortexes are lit up like a Christmas tree. I've never really seen anything like it."

The doctor shook his head, mentally steering himself back on track. "If things go badly there could be frontal lobe or other neurological damage but in the best of scenarios Caleb and Sam will suffer from head injury type symptoms such as disorientation, nausea and headaches. We won't truly know the extent of their injury until they awake."

"But they will wake up. Right?" Dean watched the doctors exchange knowing looks.

"Mac?"

"Could you give me a moment alone with my nephew? Then I would like to see the test results you've ran on Johnathan and Caleb so far."

"Of course." The doctor stood, moving towards the door. "Radiology is on the third floor." He glanced to Dean. "And you can see your brother as soon as he's settled. The ICU is on four."

"Thank you, Dr. Nelson." Mackland watched the man leave. He turned his gaze to Dean. "Lightning?"

Dean shrugged. "Silas came up with it off the cuff. I was a little too busy to develop anything original when I talked to the ER staff. But damn, Mac, tell me this lightning thing is worse than what Ian's fucking box could cause."

"Silas must have known the effects would be so similar." Ames glanced at his watch. "Dean, let me look at the scans before we jump to any conclusions."

"I know you, Mac. You don't jump to conclusions. What're you thinking?"

The doctor recognized the stubborn set to the jaw and knew diversionary tactics would be useless. "I'm thinking that from what we have assumed about this box that Caleb and Sam have both endured an overload in their processing-which could have very similar ramifications to what one would experience after being struck by lightning."

"They've been short-circuited," Dean growled. "Like electrocuted?" He thought of his own experience with the Raw Head when he had been fried by the taser. "Could it damage their hearts?" God. He hadn't even entertained that idea.

Mackland knew what the boy was relating to. "The attack was centralized to their brains, Son. I don't think we're going to see damage to any other major organ. This wasn't a true electrical shock."

"So, their hearts are okay, but they may not remember who they are or who we are. Hell, they may be a cucumber and a cumquat for all Dr. Nelson knows, and that's if they even wake up."

Mac rubbed his stiff neck, trying to retain the objectivity and distance that would allow him to offer the most help not only to Caleb and Sam, but also to the young man in front of him. "Dean, when the brain or body experiences trauma, it shuts down."

"For how long?"

Placating Dean had never been easy. But Mackland would persevere. He reached out and patted the boy's knee. "As long as it takes."

It was taking too long in Dean's book. They had been at the hospital for over twenty-four hours. Mackland had assured him the neurological scans were promising. Dean wouldn't be comforted until his brother and Caleb were talking and walking in their typical manner.

Dean had divided his time between researching lighting strike injuries and psychic phenomena in the cerebral cortex and sitting with Sam and Caleb when the nurses allowed. He drifted like a ghost between Sam's room and Caleb's. It helped that both were being held in the small intensive care unit where he felt close enough to both of them, even when they were out of direct eyeshot.

He had just finished reading Caleb the latest baseball scores when Mackland quietly entered the room. The doctor had spent his waking hours either on the phone, presumably on Scholar business or working alongside Dr. Nelson on lab results or further testing for Sam and Caleb. The last time Dean saw him, Mackland dragged him to the cafeteria for a terrible tasting burger and even less appetizing cup of coffee. "I'm not leaving." Dean stated firmly before the doctor could open his mouth.

"Okay." Mackland crossed the room, sitting on the edge of his son's bed. He looked at Caleb and frowned before reaching up and brushing the too-long hair from his son's forehead. Both Caleb and Sam could use a visit to Jim Murphy's barber chair. "How's he doing?"

Dean raised a brow. "You're the doctor."

Mackland didn't miss the annoyed tone or the frustrated look Dean shot him as if he had joined up camps with the enemy. "I'm not holding out on you, Dean. I've told you everything we've learned from the tests."

"I'm sick of the tests." Dean leaned forward, jutted his chin towards Caleb. "They're not some kind of experiment. Don't think I haven't noticed Nelson jotting down notes in that little book of his. He's probably planning on writing for a medical journal to impress the great Mackland Ames."

"He's doing everything he can to help them." Mackland glanced at his son once more. "So am I."

"Does that include hunting down that bastard Griffin?" Dean demanded. "And Ian and Silas? They'll pay for this. Right?"

Mackland exhaled heavily. "I've got Bobby working on it. But, Dean, you have to understand there are forces at work here that you don't understand."

"I'm beginning to understand a lot of things, Mac." Dean stood. "Like how The Brotherhood seems to be as much of a hindrance as the damn yellow-eyed demon."

"That's not true." Mackland shook his head. "But the deaths of both The Guardian and The Knight have started a domino effect. Everyone is nervous and unsure and certain factions are taking advantage of that."

"Certain factions being Griffin and his thugs."

"Things surrounding Griffin are not so black and white, Son." (

"Now you sound like him." Dean nodded to Caleb. He moved around the unconscious psychic's bed, leaned on the rails. Winchester let his gaze rest on the still form of his best friend. "He said we had to trust the other hunters. Look where that got him and Sammy."

"Griffin can be persuasive, Dean. Some of his points may even be valid; despite the fact his methods are treacherous and underhanded. I have a feeling some of those close to him are not privy to depths he is willing to sink."

Dean's face flared red. "Are you defending Silas and Ian?"

"No." Mackland snapped, uncharacteristically. "I have never trusted Ian, and I will see to it that he is punished."

"Don't worry about that." Dean assured, his gaze going back to Caleb. "I owe him. And I'm not as forgiving as Caleb."

"Caleb? Forgiving?" Mackland shook his head. "The last time I checked my son was far too much like John Winchester to be considered forgiving."

"He works with Fisher, Ian, and Joshua even after they almost killed him. He talked me and Sammy into doing the same. How else do you explain it?" Dean didn't bother to lower his voice. Maybe the heated discussion would do what all his pleading and coercing had not-wake Caleb and Sam. "Of course Jim must have been okay with it too, because he still let them have a ring."

Mackland ran a hand over his hair. "Dean, Ian and Fisher already had a ring before the incident you're talking about…and if you remember it was quite some time before Joshua received his."

"So, Joshua got a slap on the wrist? That's it? Is that all Ian and Silas are going to get for this?"

"No." Mackland's face darkened. "That is not all they will get. But we can't go around exacting revenge. If we do we will look even more guilty and unfit to head The Brotherhood than we already do."

"So what then, Mac?"

"You have to trust me, Dean. I know what I'm doing."

"The trust thing is getting a little costly, Mac."

Ames couldn't help the hurt that flashed through his gray eyes. "You think I'd ever do anything to hurt Caleb? Or you and Sam? My God, Dean, you boys, Missouri and Bobby are the only family I have left."

"Exactly." Dean growled. "Screw The Brotherhood, Mac. The only people that matter don't have anything to do with Griffin Porter and his plans for taking over the empire. They don't want us in their club, and maybe we didn't belong in it in the first place."

"You know that's not true. The Brotherhood is our legacy as much as our future. It brought us together, bound us in a common fight for good. It's as ingrained in our family as much as any hunter that wears a ring."

"Don't you get it, Mac? They don't want Caleb and Sam. They think they're abominations. They think Jim was crazy for picking them to lead the next Triad." Mackland had tried to put the fact that Dean now knew about his brother's position out of his mind. That unplanned occurrence could also be attributed to Griffin's meddling. "Jim wasn't crazy, Dean."

"But did he do it for the right reasons?" Dean licked his lips, fought down the dark thoughts gnawing in his gut. "Was he hoping they would be some kind of secret weapon against the dark side?"

"What?" Mackland frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Ian said…" Dean blinked, glanced at Caleb and lowered his voice. "Ian said Caleb's grandfather summoned the yellow-eyed demon. That he was possessed by him…and that Caleb…"

"Caleb's what?" Mac moved around the bed, stepped toe to toe with Dean. "A demon?"

"No." Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "That's not what I meant."

"Good. Because Caleb is as human as you and me, Dean." Sometimes his son was too human for his own good. Mackland held Dean's gaze, his voice softening. "So is Sammy. And you've heard all these things before."

"But that bastard Ian…"

"Ian is an ignorant fool. He's only parroting unfounded rumors and theories of a madman."

Some of it wasn't unfounded and they both knew it. "Caleb reacts differently to holy water. Bobby's stupid traps can block his abilities. When Duran tried to kill me…Caleb's blood kept Echnon's blade from working. And Sam…his abilities are so freakin' similar. He was immune to the demon virus."

Dean held Mackland's disappointed gaze. "I don't care Mac. It doesn't matter to me." Nothing would change how Dean felt about Sam and Caleb. Nothing. "But I want the fucking truth." He needed to understand so it could not be used against him, as Ian and Silas had done.

Mackland took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "No one knows the truth, Dean. Daniel Elkins had a great conspiracy theory, which he latched onto with all the tenacity of a drowning man to a life preserver."

"He found references in old hunters' journals about this man called Noah Seaver."

Dean arched a brow. "Seaver was some kind of a cult leader?"

Ames nodded. "Before the term 'cult' was coined." Mackland looked at Dean. "He was a preacher in a church out West in the late 1800's. Hunters of that time believed he conjured a demon to ensure him immortality, but that it possessed Seaver instead-damning him to a lifetime of servitude."

"And he knocked up his wife while he was host to the yellow eyed demon?"

Mackland sighed. "No one knows if it is the same demon. But hunters wrote that Seaver was possessed when he impregnated his young bride-as well as several other women in his congregation. The Brotherhood of that time feared the demon was attempting to create some kind of hybrid species that could walk among humans and retain demonic qualities. They believed the demon was trying to build an army or had some nefarious plan for the children."

Dean swallowed thickly. It all sounded far too familiar. "Plans?"

The doctor didn't answer, but continued with his story. "Seaver killed his whole congregation. Burned the church down around them before The Brotherhood could stop him. But some believe his wife escaped, along with her infant son. Years later sketchy details surfaced about her gruesome murder and the boy's disappearance."

Mackland himself had gone through the journals with a fine-toothed comb. In the beginning he had been driven by curiosity. Then, as his bond cemented with Caleb Reaves, and his love for his son grew so did his determination to prove Elkin's theory wrong. It was beyond frustrating. He could find no evidence to completely support either hypothesis.

"A boy who would have been Caleb's grandfather?" Dean asked, his voice tearing Ames from his morose thoughts.

"Perhaps." Mackland rested a hand on his son's leg; unable to escape the feeling he was betraying the boy's deepest darkest secret to the one person that meant the most to Caleb. He prayed it wouldn't change things. He had enough faith in Dean to believe it wouldn't. "Daniel tried to convince Jim that Noah's wife did escape and that to protect herself and her child rearranged the letters of the tainted surname of Seaver to Reaves."

"That was Elkin's proof? Reaves and Seaver contain the same letters? A fucking anagram? You've got to be kidding me."

"Daniel's prowess in all things demon is legendary. Despite his later bouts with insanity, he was quite brilliant. He trained Bobby, as well as your father. Elkins's own father was a legendary hunter in his own right." Mackland rubbed a finger over his brow. "And of course the fact that sulfur was found at the beach house where Caleb's parents died and at the scene of Caleb's foster parents' murder added some validity and weight to his argument."

"Damn it." Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Do the other hunters know all this?"

"Most of the inner circle, those with influence like Harland Sawyer, Silas Fox and others Jim trusted. But it isn't as far-reaching as it seems. Most of our kind has paid it little mind until now…"

"Now that the thing with Sam and the other children has been in the forefront?"

Mackland nodded. "And due to the fact that both The Guardian and The Knight are dead."

Dean gave him an incredulous look. "Not to mention that the proposed successors are linked to a demonic plan to take over the world?"

"It isn't like they believe your brother and Caleb are the yellow-eyed-demon's children."

"Are you sure that isn't exactly what they think?"

Mackland wrinkled his nose. "Damned if you do not share Jim Murphy's flair for the dramatic."

"We need him here."

Mackland met the insistent green gaze. "We need someone strong enough to take his place."

Dean dismissed the conversation, his gaze returned to Caleb. "Ian, Fisher and Joshua knew about Caleb when he was a kid?"

"Yes. Despite Jim's attempts to shield Caleb, there was a point when he had to let him join the ranks if he was ever going to be a hunter. It was hard for me to go along with that…and believe it or not, it was hardest for your father."

Dean didn't look surprised. "Dad's first priority was keeping his family safe. Whether he went about it in the right way or not."

"I always trusted him with Caleb." Mackland stepped forward, reaching out to squeeze Dean's shoulder. "Just as I trust you."

RcJ

Note of interest: The whole government research thing is factual. They are looking at it for mass weaponry and crowd control. And all that lightning research is also factual. Makes me want to be more careful this summer season. Never let anyone tell you that reading fanfiction is a waste of time. (grin)


	6. Chapter 6

Who Your Friends Are

Conclusion

Beta: Tidia , finishing at 12:12 am

A/N: Thanks for all the support of this fic everyone. Your reviews help me keep writing and keep me working to do it better the next time. Thanks for the heads-up on all the spelling errors last time, which were completely mine. I'm still fiddling with the new Word program.

RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ

**_"Therefore no one is treated as familiarly as are spies, no one is given more rewards as rich as those given to spies, and no matter is more secret than espionage. Spies are useful everywhere._**

**_-Master Sun, The Art of War_**

Dean Winchester was fourteen the first time he read the Art of War. It was a running joke amongst Bobby and Mackland. John Winchester believed the ancient book of battle philosophy and strategy to be the one and only true religious text-a concept Pastor Jim never found amusing.

However, Jessup Cooper, not John, had given the book to Dean. Jessup was a hunter who prided himself on many things, one of which was the idea he didn't consider himself a hunter. He preferred the term teacher-albeit a reluctant one. Dean liked to think of Jessup as a cross between Jimmy Buffet and Master Kane from Kung Fu.

Most young hunters thought it luck to be in the tutelage of such a master, even one that begrudged their training. But, Dean had been pissed when the time came for his obligatory internship.

The martial arts were more Caleb's thing. Dean preferred boxing or straight out street fighting. The swords and bows were cool. Guns were better. Living on Jessup's houseboat in the middle of a gator-infested Florida swamp for three weeks was not his teen dream adventure. Dean would rather have been spending the summer at Jim's with his brother and Reaves. All in all, Dean took away his skill with the Katana, an acquired taste for gator meat, and acute appreciation for The Art of War.

It made sense in retrospect that Dean would latch onto the two-thousand year old text with all the enthusiasm Caleb had for The Three Musketeers. The Art of War was a tool for understanding conflict. Dean's life theme was conflict. Hidden within the novel's roots were the secrets to resolution. Dean craved nothing more than resolution for his family.

At its heart, The Art of War was not about war at all, but how to find elusive peace. Even as a fourteen-year-old unable to put his subconscious feelings in words, Dean Winchester had yearned for peace.

Thirteen years later Dean wanted it even more.

Sun Tzu had said, "To win without fighting is best."

Dean was tired of fighting. And damn, he wanted to win.

The Art of War spoke of knowing thy enemy. Griffin, Ian, Silas were enemies. Each time he watched his unconscious brother pull in another life-affirming breath, the hard-learned lesson was driven home.

It was almost as painful as Jessup's knuckle-rapping bamboo pole technique. It definitely drew his focus to the task at hand, which had been Cooper's intention. Now, Dean wasn't suffering the physical pain for his lack of attention. It was those he cared for.

Dean leaned forward, trying to find a comfortable position in the hospital chair. He folded his arms, positioned them by Sam's bed and rested his head atop them. It had been a long thirty-six hours.

Dean wanted Sam to wake up. He wanted Caleb to wake up. And he wanted someone to pay for all the hours he had sat contemplating the alternatives to those wishes being fulfilled. As much as Mackland's reassurances were welcome, nothing short of seeing and talking to Sam was going to quell the foreboding feelings of tragedy clinging to Dean. It was hard to be an optimist in the face of having everything dangled over a daunting precipice with no footing or handhold in sight.

Dean was so caught up in his misery he almost missed the brush against his hair. It was light as a feather. Then a heavier weight descended upon his head. He lifted his gaze to look at his sleeping brother. Sam was looking back at him.

"Hey." Dean straightened, catching the hand that had slipped from his hair. He squeezed his brother's fingers. "Sammy? Can you hear me?"

A slight frown turned to a full blown look of confusion, but Sam nodded and attempted to speak. 'Yeah' came out sounding more like a groan.

"Here, drink this." Dean grabbed the glass of water from the table by the bed and carefully let his brother sip from it. "You've been out of it awhile."

Sam took a few painful swallows, looked around the sterile white room, and then cleared his throat. "Dean…what happened?"

The older Winchester sibling grinned, reclaiming his chair by the bed. "The usual. I had to save you from the baddies, cart your limp ass down a mountain, and then sit here in this back-breaking chair feeling the gray hair sprouting while you took a two-day beauty nap."

"Is that all?" Sam quipped, his eyes closing.

Dean placed his hand on his brother's arm. "Stay awake, Sammy."

It seemed to take an extreme effort, but the younger man did as his brother requested. "Okay."

"I'll buzz the nurse and have her get Mac."

At the sound of Ames's name, Sam's eyes widened and more clarity entered the dark depths. A hand clumsily sought out Dean's arm and fingers tightened weakly. "Caleb?"

"Is okay." Dean assured, hoping he wasn't being too optimistic. "He's just down the hallway." If Sam had woken up, then Caleb would too.

"That bad?" Sam asked.

Dean understood. They didn't call Dr. Mackland Ames for the usual, rough and tumble, run-of –the- mill injury. "Yeah. Didn't want just anybody cracking your skull open if it came to that. Which luckily it didn't."

Sam sighed. "Thanks." The frown returned. "But…what happened?"

"Silas and Ian were hunting for other things besides the Paralda."

"What did they do to us?"

"Not much. Their little box did all the work for them." Dean leaned closer to his brother, peered closely at him. "What do you remember? Anything about what went down?"

"I remember the box was working…for a second I saw the sylph."

"Yeah. It was a supernatural roach motel with added benefits. It takes out the elemental and in one fell swoop all psychics in a one mile radius." Dean reached up and touched his brother's forehead with a forced calm. "Speaking of freaky heads, how's yours?"

Sam took a moment to take stock. "Feels like someone used it as a steel drum."

"Steel lightning rod is more like it." Dean ignored the perplexed look. "What else do you remember?"

Sam swallowed thickly. "I remember the Dolly mobile."

"Probably burned in your brain for life."

A look of concern crossed Sam's face–a thought suddenly penetrated the fog around him. "Are you okay?" He looked his brother over with a critical eye. "They didn't hurt you?"

"Dude." Dean scoffed. "I could take Ian with one hand tied behind my back."

Dean didn't mention that this time Ian had metaphorically tied both his hands. He cleared his throat. "They just wanted to mess with you and Damien."

"Why?"

Dean really hated that question. Why don't we have a mom? Why do we have to leave? Why did all the dinosaurs die? There was never an easy answer when it was Sam. "They've signed on with Team Griffin."

"They did all this on purpose? They set us up?"

"Yes, Sam." Why did his brother have to look so hurt…so shocked. "They knew exactly what they were doing. Griffin wanted to let us know we have no advantages going into the game."

"What are we going to do?"

Dean didn't answer right away. He damn well knew what he wanted to do. Instead he patted Sam's leg. "I'm going to call Mac to come check you out. I promised him I'd get someone as soon as you woke." His brother seemed fine, but Dean wanted a doctor's stamp of approval.

Sam touched his head with a wince. "You…sure Caleb's okay?"

"Yeah." Dean's confidence wavered. He put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

The younger hunter looked at him. "Something else wrong?"

Dean was spared a further explanation as a nurse entered the room. "Mr. Conner, your uncle…" She paused as her gaze lighted on Sam. "Johnathan? You're awake too."

Dean looked at her. "Is Caleb awake?"

She hesitated. "That's why I came to get you. Dr. Ames needs your assistance."

The older Winchester sibling glanced to his brother and then to the door. "Sam?"

"I'm okay." Sam assured. "Go."

Dean nodded, and then moved towards the door. He took the nurse by the arm. "Stay with him."

Dean heard Mac and Caleb's distressed voices from down the hall, as well as Dr. Jones.

"You're lying to me!" Caleb tried once again to get out of the hospital bed he'd come to in only moments earlier.

"I would not lie to you." Mackland tried to reason with his agitated son. "Not about that. You know better."

Caleb pulled away from the unfamiliar doctor trying to hold his arm in place to keep Caleb from removing the IV. "I can't sense them. Nothing." The psychic held his free hand to his head as he once again tried to orient himself. "It's just like with John." Caleb had known the instant his mentor had died. It was the same with his grandmother.

Dr. Ames shared a look with his colleague, who was frowning at him as if he were indulging a spoiled child. "I told you there was an accident, Son. It's normal to be confused." He couldn't exactly discuss Caleb's abilities or present lack there of in the company of strangers. "You need to calm down. I can't sedate you and I don't want to restrain you."

"Where are they?" Caleb searched his father's face. "Did they bring them in with me? Damn it. What aren't you telling me, Dad?"

"His disorientation and agitation are typical of this type of trauma, Dr. Ames. Perhaps we should…"

Caleb didn't give the man time to finish. "Perhaps you should get the hell out of my face."

"Caleb." Mackland flashed Jones an apologetic look, nodded for him to give them a little space. "Stop."

The other doctor moved away with a heavy sigh of impatience. Ames placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "Can you sense me, Son?" He lowered his voice, made sure Caleb was holding his gaze. "I'm right here in front of you. You can see me, hear me, but you can't get any kind of reading, can you?"

Caleb blinked, took a deep breath. He winced as he tried to make some kind of telepathic contact with his father. It was just a dark empty void.

It was a disconcerting sensation. Suddenly everything that tethered him to his reality had been cut loose. His abilities were woven in his being like the most intricate of fabric. Every person he cared for was a thread, one he could touch anytime he wanted. Now that had all been torn away and Caleb felt as if he was falling into a great abyss.

"Mac?" Dean moved around two nurses waiting in the wings. They seemed unsure of what to do, although one was poised with a hypodermic needle. "What's going on?"

"Dean. Thank God."

"What's going on in here?"

"You're okay?"

Dean made his way to the bed, usual smirk in place. "I'm not the one flat on his back in the hospital. This is getting to be a habit with you, Damien."

"Sam?" Caleb ignored the attempt at levity. He reached his hand out, grasping hold of Dean's jacket. Once his mind accepted Dean was whole and concrete he released the breath he had been holding. "Is Sammy alright?"

"Yeah, he's awake." Dean flashed Mackland a concerned glance. "He's just a few doors down."

Mackland squeezed Caleb's shoulder. "That's good. Did he mention anything being out of sorts?"

Dean frowned, looked at Reaves again. "No. Just a headache."

"I can't sense him." Caleb willed himself to let go of his friend. "I can't sense you."

"I'm sure it's only temporary." Mackland gave his son's arm another reassuring squeeze. "I'll go check on Sam and leave Dean to catch you up on the accident." He nodded to the other physician. "Dr. Jones won't you join me?"

The man seemed reluctant to leave. "Shouldn't one of us assess your son further?"

Mackland looked at Caleb who was still staring at Dean as if he were some kind of mirage. "Let's give Caleb a moment to orient himself. I'll schedule a full battery of tests for both he and Sam."

Jones shrugged. "Very well."

He moved towards the door and Ames returned his gaze to the boys. "Make sure he stays put."

Dean grinned. "No problem. I have The Scholar's proxy."

"Deuce, what the hell happened?" Caleb asked once they had the room to themselves.

Dean claimed a seat on the edge of the bed, angled his body towards his best friend. "I have four words for you, Damien. I. Told. You. So."

Caleb swallowed, licked his dry lips. "Ian's responsible?"

"Yeah. He's working for Griffin."

"Damn." The psychic remembered very little of what happened after they left the RV to meet Silas and Ian. But when he awoke there was an impression of danger lingering and a sense of urgency he couldn't quite grasp. It was all smoke and mirrors and it mixed badly with his absent abilities, nearly sending him into a panic.

"Yeah." Dean raised a brow. "You remember anything?"

"The box?" Caleb rubbed his pounding forehead as images swirled through his thoughts like bits and pieces of confetti. "That damn box did something."

Dean nodded. "Griffin's psychic death ray." Winchester explained Ian and Silas's mission and future plans. Dean added Mackland's conjectures as well as a few of his own.

When the story was completed, Caleb's headache had grown exponentially. What was that old adage about the plot thickening? "Fucking Ian. Sonofabitch!"

"Again." Dean smiled to take some of the sting out of his jab. "I told you so."

Caleb glared at him. "Damn it, Deuce. I didn't think the bastard was screwed in the head enough to go against The Scholar-to commit outright mutiny. He grew up in the fucking Brotherhood."

Dean gave him an incredulous look. "He beat you within an inch of your life. That kind of screams sociopath to me."

Caleb cursed the day he shared that little tidbit of information with Sam. It was done in warning to keep Sam wary about sharing his ability with just anyone, especially those at the Roadhouse. Reaves knew Sam would tell his brother. He just never imagined both Winchesters would pick at the old wound with such fervor. "I know he's a goddamn asshole, Dean. But some of the things he did back then...I could understand."

"Understand?" Dean tilted his head. "Seriously?"

"They didn't know me. I was a newbie-John's pet, Jim's Golden Boy. It was like hazing."

"Hazing?" Winchester shook his head in disbelief. "I don't get you, man. Are you justifying what Ian and his boys did? Is this because of your freaky-ass grandfather? Because you think he conjured old yellow-eyes?"

"What?" Caleb pushed himself up in the bed. "Did Ian tell you that?"

"Yes." Dean softened his voice, which only seemed to drain even more of the color from Reaves's face. "The secret's out. So you don't have to protect Hastings anymore. You never needed to. None of it matters. Not to me. It won't to Sam either."

Caleb slumped against the mattress. He brought the heels of his hands up to dig roughly at his stinging eyes. "Fuck, Deuce. I wasn't protecting that bastard." He looked up at the younger hunter. "And it doesn't have anything to do with my family lineage." That's what he told himself. "I figured you would hear that theory sooner or later." Never was preferable, but no longer an option.

Dean threw his hands in the air. "Then why all the forgive and forget shit, Damien? Why'd you lie to Dad? Pastor Jim would have tossed Ian, Fisher, and Josh out of the club faster than they could have said blackballed."

Caleb bit his lip. God. He just wanted the kid to drop it already. "Does it really matter? All of this stuff going on now...Griffin...the plot against the new Triad...shouldn't that be where we focus our attention?"

"You and Sammy almost had your brains seared. I was left with no choice but to work with those sonsofbitches."

"Did they hurt you?"

Seeing the stricken look on Caleb's face had the cartoon light bulb over Dean's head flashing. It all became suddenly clear to Dean. What had seemed completely out of Caleb Reaves's character now fit perfectly with everything Dean knew to be true about his friend. "They threatened me and Sam? All those years ago, that's how the kept you in line? Isn't it?"

"Deuce, drop it." Caleb growled.

"I'm right. Ian, Fisher and Josh promised to do something to us if you didn't cover for them."

Reaves met Dean's gaze and exhaled heavily. "Just Ian."

"And you believed him?"

"As you pointed out he had just pretty much beat the hell out of me. It seemed like a good bet at the time that he wasn't above torturing little kids. I wasn't willing to take the chance."

Dean raked a hand through his hair. "Do you remember Maryland?"

Caleb frowned at the shift in subjects. "State next to West Virginia if I recall."

"Good to see the brain scrambler didn't put the smartass lobe of your brain out of commission."

Reaves crossed his arms over his chest. "I remember you getting your ass kicked there by a bunch of bar flies, Deuce. But that's happened in a lot of our fair states."

Dean snorted. "Right. I was thinking more about the ass-kicking you dished out."

Caleb's mouth twitched as he recalled the incident at the 'Hole in the Wall' bar. He had wiped the floor with the bastards who had ganged up on a sixteen-year-old Dean. "Good times. But those idiots weren't hunters, Dude. They didn't wear a ring that we're honor bound to."

"Would it have stopped you if they did?"

Reaves glanced away. "I'll take the fifth on that."

"That's what I thought. I know you believe in The Brotherhood..."

"And you don't?" Caleb cut him off. "You going to tell me it's not the same for you as it is for me? I know you, man. Our reasoning might be a little different, but it's not just a job for you. It's who you are. We're born soldiers, whether you want to admit it or not."

Dean nodded. "I'm not denying anything, Damien. I'm just saying that sometimes the enemy is wearing the same uniform, saluting the same damn flag."

Before Caleb could reply a young nurse stepped into the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we need to take you to radiology now."

Dean could see the protest building in Caleb's eyes and quickly stood up to make room for the technicians entering with a gurney. "Don't pout, Damien. Be good to the nice nurse and I'll bring you back a treat."

Caleb ignored the people buzzing around them trying to prepare him for transport. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Out?" Reaves wrinkled his brow, forgetting he couldn't easily take a peek at what Dean was thinking. "Out where?"

Dean could hear the concern in the other man's voice. "Don't worry. I'm not going to any bars with a pair of brass knuckles and a Louisville Slugger for back up."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you're cynical." And Caleb knew him too damn well. "Really, fresh air is all I'm after. And maybe a change of scenery from all this sterile white. I'm starting to feel like the walls are closing in on me."

Caleb smirked. "All that vibrant Dolly décor has ruined you for the mundane."

"That must be it." Dean grinned, squeezed his shoulder and started for the door. "Promise to kill me if I start wearing sequins or fringes."

_RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ_

The long hike up to Andrews Bald had given Dean the fresh air he needed. He sorted through the tangle of thoughts, planning their next step in the deadly game of cat and mouse.

The clearing looked harmless this time around and despite the lateness of the day, he encountered no hikers. No gale-force winds greeted him either, only a slight breeze. He was surprised to see the Catawba plants were no longer blooming, their vibrant flowers shrunken and wilted. Things were back to their natural state. Al Gore could rest assured.

Dean sought his peace of mind. And tripped over it. One corner of Ian's magic cube lay awkwardly in the undergrowth. Despite the stumble, Dean exhaled a sigh of relief. He was afraid Hastings and Fox had returned to retrieve it. Obviously they hadn't thought it worth the risk of being caught at the scene of the crime.

That was smart of them.

Because no matter what Dean told Caleb, he wanted nothing more than to exact revenge on Ian Hastings and Silas Fox. He wanted them to suffer like Sam and Caleb. He wanted them to be afraid-to experience gut-gnawing, consuming fear. The same kind of fear Dean had endured. But Dean was far from dumb. A smart warrior was proactive-strategic.

As Dean freed the box from its vine-wrapped prison and turned it over in his hands. The slightly charred weapon was no longer menacing. Its structure, although simple on the outside, probably held intricate workings inside. Hopefully it hadn't been compromised by the Paralda's assault.

His plan evolved. Step one: Methodically take it apart one piece at a time just as he would dismantle Ian at a date yet to be set. He had figured out how an EMF worked and built his own. He would discover the secrets of Griffin's toy.

Step two: Build something to counteract it. He had a lot more motivation this time, not just shear curiosity and boredom. He needed to protect his family…and The Brotherhood. No one was going to mess with either, whether they wore a ring or not.

Dean slid the box into his pack and stood to start the hike back down the mountain. His ringing cell phone stopped him. He'd been gone several hours and expected it to be Sam or Caleb checking on him, but the call wasn't from either.

The name sent a wave of heat from Winchester's head to his toes. He clenched his jaw, his hand tightened around the cell. "Joshua." He ground out, reading the display screen. "Or should I say Judas?"

Dean looked from the ringing phone to the bagged weapon. Sawyer had been all too happy to send Ian and Silas to their aid, or had he delivered them into the enemy's hands?

A part of Winchester wanted to give Sawyer the benefit of the doubt. After all, he'd spent time with them over the years, with Pastor Jim. As much as it irked Dean, Joshua had been a part of their life at the farm to some degree. He knew them better than outsiders like Ian and Silas.

It made him ten times more dangerous.

With the phone still ringing, Dean turned if off and tossed it in his bag.

RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Caleb and Sam had been moved to a regular room by the time he returned. Dean had stopped by the RV, picked up their things, and squared things with Maggie, promising to send her a copy of the article he would write about the strange events in Cosby.

Dean would stay at the hospital as he had done the night before. Mackland had scored them cots in the doctor's quarters, which was more like a big closet with bunk beds and a mini-fridge. But it beat the hospital chairs any day.

The two patients were watching a replay of the NASCAR Bristol race, both looking better than earlier.

"Told you." Sam shot Caleb a triumphant look as Dean entered their shared room. "And you bet I couldn't pick him up from the parking lot."

"Show off." Reaves grumbled. "You're just lucky I had the Sammy shield at full force or your abilities would be fried too."

"He still flying without his freaky side?" Dean asked as he sat on his brother's bed.

"Yep." Sam grinned. "He's telepathically impotent."

Caleb threw a pillow at the younger man. "I've never been impotent. Ever!"

"That's Mac's diagnosis." Sam glanced to his brother, an evil glint in his dark eyes. "He said it was temporary and that perhaps some visualization and mantra work might be beneficial."

"Great." Dean groaned. "Two New Age freaks. I don't care what Mac prescribes. There will be no Yanni playing in the Impala." He held out the brown paper bags he brought. "Besides Doctor Dean has the cure-all right here."

"A gag and duct tape?" Caleb asked, shifting a gaze towards his roommate. "Because if I have to stay cooped up with the runt for another night, not much else is going to make me feel better."

"Not even a cheeseburger, extra grease, ketchup and hold anything green?"

Reaves sighed. "Okay. That might make my pain a little more bearable."

Dean tossed him one bag and then handed his brother the other. "I made sure they put extra rabbit food on yours and I even got you one of those girly coffee drinks, Sammy."

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Bro. You're all heart."

Caleb unwrapped the burger dripping with processed tomato puree. "You clear your head, Deuce?"

Winchester grinned, knowing Reaves was dying to know where he had gone to. "Something like that."

"He went to see that woman, Maggie."

Dean glared at his brother. "You reading me without permission, bitch?"

Sam smirked around a big bite of his burger, pointed to the smear of red-lipstick on his brother's face. "No. It's called deductive reasoning, jerk. You reek of cheap perfume."

"You abandoned us at the hospital to score a piece of…" The last of Caleb's indignant inquiry was lost in the mouthful of fries.

Dean grinned. "I waited until you both were awake."

"Your tact is amazing."

"Speaking of tact…" Dean dug in the last bag he was holding with flourish. "I thought you boys might be getting a little homesick." He produced two picture frames dotted with sequin butterflies, which he placed strategically on the nightstand.

Dolly Parton's brilliant smile beamed at the boys from the glossy photos.

Sam looked at his brother as if Dean had just committed armed robbery. "You stole those."

"And you confused tact with tacky," Caleb added with a disappointed shake of his head. "You could have at least snagged the one with the landscape-like cleavage."

Mackland entered the room. He frowned as he saw the food laid in front of his son and Sam. "Dean. . ."

Dean shrugged. "At least I brought gifts."

Ames walked over to his son, and plucked a fry from Caleb's hand. "And so did I. As long as you both continue to improve then you will be released tomorrow."

"That beats a burger." Sam replied as he finished the last bite, and crumpled the paper wrappings.

"Bet you wouldn't have said that if I brought you a Chicken Cesar salad." Dean retorted, and sat on the edge of his brother's bed. He placed a hand on Sam's ankle, seeking the comfort of the contact.

"But, I don't want you boys back on the road for awhile." Mackland advised, using the fry to point at his son.

"Guess it's back to Jim's." Caleb snatched the French fry from his father. "We have to figure out what we're going to do about Griffin."

"We will. You can count on that." Mac winked at Dean.

"Dean might not have had it all figured out when it came to who their enemies were, but he had no doubts about his friends.

_RcJSnsnsnsnsnsnsnsNRcJ_

A/N: Okay everyone, a lot of things coming up this summer. Pawns should be ready by the end of June or so, that is the kidnapping story, which is also the Prologue to To the Victor Goes the Spoils. Tidia and I are also redoing Heroes, tentatively titled Heroes Revisted. I promise we aren't taking away anything, only adding more in.

Last but not least, we would like to tell everyone that thehunterstomb is currently under new construction thanks to that wonderful Sensue who has been working like a madwoman. Authors can now sign on and post fiction and other things. It's very cool and we hope all you writers out there will consider it. Thehunterstomb(dot)com. Check it out.


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